


Whispers & Bullets Part 1: The Blessed Flames

by Mastorya



Series: Whispers & Bullets [1]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Constructive Criticism Welcome, Developing Friendships, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, Drug Withdrawal, Eventual Canon Divergence, Eventual Fluff, Eventual New Factions, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Romance, Eventual Sex, Eventual Smut, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Friendship/Love, Graphic Description, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, Male-Female Friendship, My First AO3 Post, My First Fanfic, My First Work in This Fandom, POV Male Character, Recreational Drug Use, Slow Burn, Violence, Will add tags as I go
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2019-07-10
Packaged: 2019-09-25 02:52:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 24
Words: 92,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17113064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mastorya/pseuds/Mastorya
Summary: Robert Joseph MacCready finds himself in a partnership with Gwendolyn Clark, a mysterious vault-dweller that picked him up in the Third Rail. They both want to save their sons. They both know loss. They both look out for each other. In this winding adventure, the duo try their best to make the most of things, trying to survive and overcome whatever the godforsaken Commonwealth can throw at them.Part 1: The Blessed Flames follows the heartbreaking search of an estranged mother for her stolen son. Romance, violence, grief, psychosis and guilt await the MacCready/Clark duo in their travels and tribulations.I made a tumblr for this fanfic for you to contact me, post your own stuff and ask me things. https://mastorya.tumblr.comA reader asked if I could make a Ko-Fi page so they could support me in writing this fic. So here you go: http://ko-fi.com/mastoryaCaution! Explicit content within: Graphic violence, Drug use, Trauma and Grief.I will be leaving warnings on especially intense chapters.





	1. Brahmin Steak

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Fallout: Fury Blood](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6167476) by [WordHuntress](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WordHuntress/pseuds/WordHuntress). 

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where a mercenary is hired, a woman is met and a meal is had.

_Well, looks like the good times end here._

Winlock and Barnes strolled into the VIP section of the Third Rail, big bad guys trying to own the place. MacCready was in no mood to entertain those two, but, outnumbered and cornered, he had no choice but to humor them yet again.

“Can’t say I’m surprised to see you in a dump like this, MacCready” snarled Winlock.

“I was wondering how long it would take your bloodhounds to track me down, Winlock. It’s been almost three months… don’t tell me you’re getting rusty.” Bluffing, MacCready added, “Should we take this outside?”

The man was tall and imposing, especially with his slicked back blood red hair. As much as he relished the chance to finally pop a bullet in that asshole’s forehead, the young mercenary knew he was currently in no shape to take him on. With Winlock and Barnes breathing down his neck, business was awfully thin. He couldn’t remember the last time he had eaten a nice warm meal. Jerky and other trash tier foods weren’t going to keep him alive much longer…

He was pretty sure that none of his interlocutors would dare start a firefight in Goodneighbor unless they had a death wish. Mayor Hancock could easily take both men down with a switchblade alone for even wishing to try anything in his town. Despite the advantageous situation, he couldn't take any chances. Finding an ounce of strength in his gut, he was able to pull off his usual witticism in the face of the man that had been threatening his life for weeks.

“It ain’t like that. I’m just here to deliver a message.”  _Obviously just being a messenger this time, right,_ thought the young mercenary.

Clearing his throat, MacCready answered plainly, “In case you forgot, I left the Gunners for good.”

“Yeah, I heard” snickered Winlock in response.

Of course, MacCready knew that he was aware of his status towards them. _Can’t hurt to remind this jackass that he should leave me alone_ , he thought, feeling content that he could piss off the big man further. He finally shifted his eyes to Barnes, silently letting his partner speak for the both of them. _Spineless as always._

“But you’re still taking jobs in the Commonwealth. That isn’t going to work for us.”

If he could roll his eyes any further, MacCready would gladly oblige. It’s been the same conversation over and over again for months. _Gettin' real tired of this broken record_. The frustration boiling in his veins was surely going to be spat out with his next words and he clearly didn’t care. Winlock and Barnes had to leave his temporary “office” that had become the VIP area of the Third Rail as soon as possible if he wanted to avoid a full on confrontation.

That’s when he spotted a thin shadow walking up to the room they were in. In the dim red lights of the bar, he could hardly make out any details, but whoever had the balls to walk in here during official Gunner business was a woman. Couldn’t be much taller than him, strangely curvaceous and wearing a vault suit under a thick layer of leather armor. He was definitely not looking forward to deal with a vaultie of all people but he would still welcome the change. Who could blame him for wanting to get rid of the two brawny men as soon as possible?

“I don’t take orders from you… not anymore,” he hissed, words dripping in anger. “So why don’t you take your girlfriend and walk out of here while you still can?”

His bravado didn’t seem to even phase Winlock but his words unmistakably hit their mark.

“What?!” exclaimed Barnes who had remained completely silent through the entire confrontation.

The dark skinned soldier wasn’t as imposing as his superior but he still had an aura that screamed of pure murder machine. Turning towards his associate, flames consuming his green eyes, he exclaimed “Winlock, tell me we don’t have to listen to this shit…” voice almost breaking under the pressure and exasperation he was pushing through his clenched jaw.

“Listen up, MacCready.” _Damn do I hate hearing him say my name_ , the young man thought. “The only reason we haven’t filled your body full of bullets is that we don’t want a war with Goodneighbor.”

The large man almost looked defeated for a second when he finished his statement. _I really have to go lick Hancock’s boots again for letting me stay here..._

Still as calm as humanly possible, Winlock sighed, “See we respect other people’s boundaries... “ _You respect the superior skill and firepower of Goodneighbor, not people,_ MacCready winced to himself. Seemingly unaware, the large man continued, “we know how to play the game. It’s something you never learned.”

Happy to aggravate both men further, the mercenary adopted a sarcastic tone, “Glad to have disappointed you.”

“You can play the tough guy all you want. But if we hear you’re still operating inside Gunner territory, all bets are off. You got that?” barked Winlock.

While Winlock wouldn’t be bothered by his quip, he couldn’t help but feel pleased with himself. _I hope you feel as powerless as I am for once, asshole._ What MacCready wasn’t expecting was to see the shadowed woman tiptoe towards a free seat, a smirk drawn across her face. Studying her in the better lighting of the VIP room, he noticed that she couldn’t be very old at all with her sunkissed wrinkleless face and ample cheeks. She was wearing thick black glasses, framing her hazel eyes. Freckles covered the bridge of her nose and two small moles were visible on her chin. Considering her appearance, she was definitely what someone would call a pretty woman. What evaded MacCready was how she could have such big cheeks in this godforsaken wasteland. There was a very limited number of women he had met that even had hips to speak of, with the lack of nutritious food and all the surviving they had to do. Even his Lucy… _No, not the time to think about this,_ he chastised himself.

He returned his attention to the Gunners. The young mercenary knew they couldn’t touch him as long as he remained in the vicinity of Mayor Hancock and his precious town, but a chill still took hold of the back of his neck. So many things to do, so many caps to earn… He definitely couldn’t be offed yet, not when he had such an important person depending on his success out here in the Commonwealth. Not willing to show any weakness, he steeled himself before replying.

“You finished?”

“Yeah… we’re finished. Come on Barnes”, finally uttered Winlock, frustration visible on his face. _Good dog. Wouldn’t want to piss off the good mayor now._

Relief threatened to show on MacCready’s face when both Winlock and Barnes finally turned around to leave the bar. While he did believe in Mayor Hancock and his hatred for the Gunners, that couldn’t keep the two from trying to stab him to death in his sleep tonight. _Gonna try to convince Hancock to let me crash in the State House tonight..._

The young man took a deep breath before turning his attention back to the mysterious vaultie. She was still smirking while she seemed to study him. Could she be an actual client for once and not just a junkie looking for handouts? She definitely didn’t jitter from jet or psycho withdrawal, MacCready noted. Her leather armor looked like it had endured the assault of a yao guai or another large clawed creature with all the deep grooves stretching from her left shoulder to her right hip. Dried blood was splotched all over the animal hide the armor was made of, giving off an intimidating look coupled with the claw marks. What kind of trouble did this vaultie get into, MacCready wondered. The strangest part of her getup was definitely her vault suit. Despite the state of her armor, the damn thing was pristine, looking freshly washed even. All that blue and gold would make for a great target in the ruins, he thought. Leveling his eyes back to her face, he couldn’t shake the feeling that she was scrutinizing him with even more effort than he had put into his study of her form. Discomfort mounting, he decided to break the ice.

“Look, lady. If you’re preaching about the Atom, or looking for a friend, you’ve got the wrong guy. If you need a hired gun… then maybe we can talk.”

He noticed the woman smiling at him even more than she already was. He was getting more uncomfortable than he normally would due to that damn smile. He just couldn’t read her at all. Why was she smiling, why had she been smirking at his exchange of heated words with Winlock, why was she looking so relaxed in front of a stranger while he was trying to infuse his words with venom so she’d leave him alone? _No, she can’t really be a client, right?_

The woman chuckled to herself before piercing his eyes with her steady and confident gaze. He felt like she could see within the depth of his soul with those eyes of hers, which greatly unsettled him.

“I’m interested… if you think you’ve got what it takes,” she answered after what felt like an eternity. _What a cocky gal this one. Does she even know who she’s talking to?_

“You’re joking right? I’ve been doing this since I was a kid. I know my way around. I used to run with the Gunners for god’s sake.”

“Gunners… yeah, I heard of them. Put a lot of ‘em in the ground as well. In my eyes, that’s not much of an insurance for how good you supposedly are.”

“Look, if you’ve got the caps, I’m not gonna let you down,” he answered sharply.

For a split second, her smile faltered. It didn’t take long for her confident composure to come back to her, but he felt like he had been able to get a speck of valuable information on her. _Sweet spot for kids maybe?_ MacCready’s cheeks still grew hot at the snide statement. _How can she dare doubt my skills? Seriously, who does she think she is. She’s just a damn vaultie._ He was visibly irritated at the woman questioning his efficiency with a rifle. She seemed to be lost in thought, brushing her gloved hand on her chin. Her smile finally came back as if she actually liked seeing him exasperated.

Wanting nothing more than to find a reason to turn her down, he asked, “Now, what about you? How do I know I won’t end up with a bullet in my back?”

“All I can give you is my word and a bunch of caps _,_ ” she huffed, pulling out a small pouch and jiggling its contents. _Now you’re speaking my language, lady. Might actually be payday for once!_

“Bunch of caps, huh? Okay, hotshot. Price is 250 caps… up front. And there’s no room for bargaining.”

“Oh don’t you worry your sweet cheeks there… MacCready, right?” The question felt forced, especially with her sultry voice. _No need to hide that you were eavesdropping there, miss._ She continued in a heartbeat, either not noticing his scowl or, most likely, just ignoring his reaction.

“250 caps it is. Count if you want.” She threw him the pouch, which he greedily caught.

“All right, boss… you got yourself an extra gun. Lead on.” He took a step forward but was quickly stopped in his tracks by her raised hand, palm towards him.

“Shouldn’t we celebrate this? Brahmin steaks sound good to you?”

She was eyeing him with that trademark smile of hers. If he was to be honest, he liked that she seemed to think of him as more than just a gun. She was definitely the first client to offer that they get a meal before actually getting into the nitty-gritty of things. He hesitated, not knowing if he should accept or be more cautious of her kindness. Was she even offering or would he have to chip into his newly acquired stack of caps for this?

As if she had read his mind, she chuckled and added “I’m buying of course. Order as much food and booze as you want, MacCready. A gal has to butter up the man she’s interested in, yes?” _Interested? What did she even mean? She just HIRED me, it’s not like this is anything but a business venture._ Still, despite the doubts creeping in his mind, he finally smiled back at her.

“As you wish, boss. Brahmin sounds great.”

They both exited the VIP room to join the rest of the patrons of the Third Rail.

 

********************************

 

“Damn MacCready, you must have been the hungriest man on Earth!”, she exclaimed, as the mercenary wolfed down his third steak. He was also on his third beer while she was still sipping her first glass of whiskey. She had finished her first (and only) steak by now and was looking at either his own plate or Magnolia, the charming singer of the bar. The relief he felt in his stomach from all the food was worth all the shit he had gotten from Winlock and Barnes.

He realized that he still had no idea who his new boss was, not even her name.

In between two bites, he lifted his chin towards her and asked “What’s your name boss? You got mine; it’s only fair that you give me yours, right?”

She studied him for a moment, probably pondering if he was worthy to know her name. Her stare softened and she smiled before finally revealing her name to him. “Name’s Gwendolyn. Pleased to meet you, MacCready. Even more pleased to have you watching my back from now on.”

The sincerity in her words took the mercenary aback. When was the last time someone had actually been happy to see him, he didn’t remember. All he knew is that he would do his best to watch her back for as long as she would want him, that’s for sure.

When the last bite of meat disappeared from his fourth plate, he looked up at his new employer. She had a grin plastered on her face, pushing up her generous cheeks. _Damn, she’s cute with those cheeks of hers. Kinda want to pinch ‘em._ When he was finally done with his meal, she got up from her seat to speak to Whitechapel Charlie. At that moment, he realized that, in his hunger, he had probably cost his boss at least a good 100 caps worth of food and drink. The guilt of being such a nuisance to his new income provider locked him in place on his chair. _Did I already fuck this up? This gig could net me so many caps, what I am doing, being such an ass not even a day into this?_ Visibly, she was done with the Mister Handy bartender because she was already coming back to their table, eyes planted in his. He looked away, guilt and uneasiness eating away at his gut. As if on cue, she placed a warm hand on his shoulder, squeezing slightly, maybe as a way to reassure him that he had done nothing wrong.

“Hey, I’m glad you enjoyed a good dinner. You seemed to really need it. Don’t worry about the price or anything. I don’t mind at all.” Her voice was gentle and kind, just low enough for him to hear the soft words drip from her supple lips. While he still felt guilty, he was also thankful for her remark. He finally got up from his seat, ready to follow her out of the bar.

She led them to the Hotel Rexford, probably thinking about turning in for some much needed sleep. While he was down in the VIP room of the Third Rail, MacCready never really noticed how fast time passed without staring at the watch he was able to pilfer many moons ago. It was already well into the night, the sky speckled with stars. Much to his surprise, she splurged on him _again_ for the day, getting him his own private room for the night as well as a room for herself. They’d gotten lucky and both rooms were right next to the other. It would be easier to reconvene in the morning, he thought. When they got to their respective doors, she offered him wishes of good sleep and nice dreams, waving her hand. He didn’t dare go into his room before she opened her own door and disappeared.

After getting a well needed scrub and a couple of cigarettes, he finally settled himself in bed, arms under his neck, staring up at the ceiling of his room. He had haphazardly thrown his tattered duster over a nearby chair and let his hat drop to the floor. _Man, today was a good day. Got a new job, a good meal and even a roof over my head. What kind of karma did I cash in to get this lucky_?

He was pulled out of his own thoughts when he heard some muffled sounds coming for the wall he had in common with his new boss. Curious, he got back up as silently as he could to put his ear to the wall. What he heard was not what he was expecting from the confident, ballsy woman he had met earlier today.

She was crying, positively weeping like a child.

His curiosity made him feel dirty. Why was he so interested in hearing a grown woman cry her eyes out? Nevertheless, he was glued to the wall, unable to pull back from his discovery. Gwendolyn’s sobs were calming down, finally, as she was trying to breathe in slowly. He heard her shift in what sounded like fabric, probably the shredded bed sheets that adorned every bed in the Rexford, before he heard her sigh deeply. She was whispering something, not that he could heard any of her words.

His neck felt engulfed in flames when MacCready finally pulled back from his listening post. What was he doing, eavesdropping on a woman, his boss even, like a brat? Everyone has secrets and sorrows, he thought. _Especially me…_ His mind was then filled with the memory of his now departed wife, Lucy. She was so sweet and cared for him like nobody else had in his entire life. Being the mayor of a cave full of children was not a position that afforded him any comfort from his proteges. He was relieved to finally leave Little Lamplight at the age of 16, thinking he could probably find something to live for in Big Town, until he realized that the coveted adult town was nothing more than a couple of shacks filled to the brim with his past friends, now only echoes of themselves as they were consumed by fear. He had refused to become just another lost soul in that dead end place so he had settled for the equally terrible alternative of aimlessly travelling the Capital Wastes. During his travels, he had met and fallen in love with Lucy, gotten married and even brought a beautiful baby boy into this forsaken world. _Lucy… You’ve no idea how I miss you. I should have stayed back with you when you died, accepted my own death and…_ No, no don’t you dare go back there, the young man cursed himself. _You had to run, protect Duncan, protect your son. A son that you abandoned like a COWARD_ . Tears were threatening to erupt from his blue eyes, so he slapped himself in the face. _Stay together man. You’re here for a reason, now stop being a child and get to work._

 

********************************

 

When he emerged from his room, his boss was still nowhere to be seen. She wasn’t in the lobby or the corridor that housed the hotel rooms. He thought she must still be asleep; it was only 5 a.m. after all. Getting restless from sitting around, he pulled a cigarette to his lips, lighting it. The embers lit up his face as he smoked in the dark cool air of what was probably early December. Minutes passed with still no Gwendolyn in sight. At this point, he was pacing the main road of Goodneighbor, antsy that his cash cow might have run on him. That’s when he spotted a familiar figure cloaked in old red cloth, head adorned of a tricorn.

He waved down Mayor Hancock. The ghoul smiled at him in a rictus, his usual look when he was high on jet. Hancock settled beside him, back to the facade of the hotel, crossing his arms. Of course, his smirk never left his emaciated face as MacCready produced a cigarette for him. He gladly accepted the token and lit it up, taking in a deep puff of smoke in his lungs.

“So, kid, I heard you got yourself a new boss. Congrats,” the ghoul finally exclaimed. While the mercenary wasn’t sure if he was being sarcastic at first, he smiled back at his companion when the smile the ghoul had on his lips looked more sincere than anything else in his demeanor.

“Yup, got myself a big fish, Hancock,” he started. He looked around for a minute, making sure that nobody was interested in their conversation before continuing, “Chick’s a vaultie with quite an attitude. You’d like her. Just please restrain yourself for a couple of weeks, yeah? I can’t afford to lose this gig to your… _charms_.” The ghoul let a bark of laughter escape from his chest at MacCready’s plea.

“Ain’t gotta worry, brother. Already tried and got turned down. Gwen’s not an easy woman to seduce it seems!”

Both men laughed their hearts out. MacCready barely registered that Hancock already knew his boss's name, instead imagining the tough vaultie refusing a night with the mayor. “What a slap in the face that must have been, mayor.”

“You got that right MacCready. She’s like one of those pinup girls from pre-war posters with those damn curves of hers. Can’t believe I won’t get to see those naked in the near future.”

Embarrassment creeped into the young man’s face when a flicker of imagination in his mind decided to picture his boss naked. That would be a dream, wouldn’t it? Shaking his head to try to push the thought away, he couldn’t escape Hancock’s laughter. The ghoul had definitely noticed the change of color in his complexion, that’s for sure, despite the dim light perched on top of them. Before he could defend himself, the mayor grabbed his shoulder, giving it a slight shake.

“You better protect her, MacCready. She’s one of a kind, and we won’t get to meet another gal like her in our lifetimes. Yeah yeah I know I’m practically immortal, don’t look at me like that,” the ghoul added when the mercenary’s face changed from a frown to a confused look. “Look, I know a bit of her life story and, seriously, ain’t nobody else like her in this shit covered land. So you better do your job right or you’ll have me to answer to.”

The sudden protective nature of Hancock’s words left him speechless. What had happened between the two to gain her the support of the almighty mayor of Goodneighbor? He’d have to question her about it at some point in the future. He was pulled out of his reverie when he heard a sultry voice call to both men.

“Well if it isn’t my favorite mayor and my new gun, chatting up a storm in the dead of night!”

Gwendolyn approached both men. She was wearing her vault suit again but had not bothered putting on her leather armor this time. Despite her bright smile and gentle eyes, it was really hard to miss the deep dark circles hovering over her cheeks. _Did she cry all night?_ Hancock, with his sharp wits, had probably noticed them as well but decided to ignore that as he wrapped an arm over her shoulder, pulling her close to him. That’s when MacCready heard something clink at her hip. _Wait what? A sword? What is she doing with a sword as her only protection right now? Is she nuts?_ His questions were interrupted by Hancock’s banter.

“Well, Sunshine, didn’t think I’d see you today. What brought you back to Goodneighbor? Don’t tell me you miss me already?”, the ghoul playfully joked. Her warm features faced the mayor with a bright smile, revealing her white teeth. _Wait, those teeth are way too white and perfect. Who is she, really?_ Of course, the question would be added to the pile of unanswered mysteries surrounding the woman. He noticed that she was taller than Hancock by half a head. That would mean that she was definitely a little taller than him as well.

“Oh Hancock, you’ve no idea. I got a lead.” The ghoul’s eyes grew wide in surprise. Trying to keep his composure, he let out a worried sigh.

“So Valentine did end up helping you with _that_. Are you sure it’s wise to go after what is probably a terribly dangerous mercenary?”

Not missing a beat, Gwendolyn frowned, “Hancock, you know I have to do this. I have to find Shaun… and yeah, a dangerous mercenary is a good guess. I have to take down Conrad Kellogg. I’m told he’s basically the deadliest man in this whole damn Commonwealth.”

A look of horror spread across Hancock’s ghoulish features. MacCready couldn’t help but frown at the sudden revelation. Anybody with half a brain knew who Kellogg was and steered clear from the hired killer.

“You can’t be serious, Sunshine. Kellogg is the one that took your kid?” _Whoa there, she’s after HER kid? Another thing to question her about._

“John please,” she whispered, “don’t say that out loud. Yeah, he took my son, and he’s gonna pay. I’m not debating this with you.”

Her tone had gone from happy-go-lucky to deathly serious in an instant. The deep frown she wore on her young face appeared out of place and unsettling. Hancock must have understood the finality of her words because after seemingly wanting to continue the conversation, he closed his mouth and looked down. MacCready had never seen the almighty mayor of Goodneighbor so distraught in his entire life. What kind of connection did the two share for her to have such an effect on the ghoul? Before he could ponder as to the nature of their relationship, Gwendolyn turned to face him, her frown softening ever so slightly.

“Come on MacCready, time to get our things. We’re leaving in…” She looked at her PipBoy for a minute before bringing her eyes back up to him, “30 minutes is alright with you?”

The sudden question surprised him. Not a single one of his previous employers would even ask for his opinion on things like this. After a moment, he answered, “Okay boss, 30 minutes in the Rexford lobby, got it.”

He turned on his heels, ready to leave, when he looked back to make sure Gwendolyn was following in his footsteps. To his surprise, he saw her pulling Hancock into a tight embrace, murmuring something to the ghoul. He was holding her to his own body as tightly as possible.

“You better kill the asshole and come back; you hear me, Gwen?” Hancock’s voice was shaking, breaking even. MacCready felt a wave of pressure crash down on him. He’d have to take this job seriously, or he’ll definitely have the mayor at his throat.

She let go of the ghoul, smiling gently at him, “Don’t worry, I got myself an extra gun just to be safe. Kellogg is as good as dead.” The confidence in her words felt… forced. She must have been putting on a strong front for Hancock to stop worrying. While the ghoul still seemed reluctant to believe in her words, he finally turned to look at the mercenary.

“You better not let her down MacCready. Bring her back safe, you hear?” While the mayor had been smiling when he said those words, it wasn’t difficult to understand that this was certainly a threat.

Not wishing to show his discomfort, MacCready put as much confidence as he could in his next words, “Who do you think you’re talking to, mayor? She hired the best sniper in the Commonwealth and I intend to keep up the reputation.”

Satisfied with his comment, the mercenary entered the hotel with a spring to his step.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, first chapter uploaded... Please do leave constructive criticism if you feel like it. I'll be uploading a chapter every week or every two weeks, depending on my schedule. I hope you enjoy my writings!


	2. Crack Flush

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where a Paladin is met, an injury is treated and some ghouls are shot.

Gwendolyn had the intention to get to the Cambridge Police Station before sundown. She said she wanted to meet with someone before heading into the belly of the beast, Fort Hagen. After some investigating with Nick Valentine, the only synth detective in the Commonwealth, the vaultie was able to track Conrad Kellogg to the faraway military base with the aid of her trusty dog, Dogmeat. At least, that was what she had told MacCready and, without any real reason to doubt her tale, he believed her. As they travelled the ruins of Boston in relative safety, the mercenary had been figuring out just who this woman that employed him really was. His first objective in the matter was to etch her appearance in his memory since she didn’t seem interested in small talk for the moment.

The early morning sun reflected in her brown hair in golden hues as it swayed from left to right in a lazy ponytail. Compared to earlier that same morning, she was geared up appropriately for the deadly wasteland, her damaged leather armor covering her vault suit in strategic places. She had also tied a grey bandana over her mouth and nose and changed her usual black frames for some wraparound glasses. What had MacCready perplexed the most was her arsenal of weapons either strapped to her waist or dangling off her backpack. She had the same sword as this morning in a holster on her left side as well as a heavily modified 10mm pistol on her right thigh. Her pack had a double barrel shotgun and a sniper rifle attached to it, both firearms modified and upgraded beyond the young man’s comprehension. Why would someone need that many options in dealing with the mobs escaped him. After all, he only had a sniper rifle with him which took care of any threat he could encounter.

They had passed Diamond City when Gwendolyn stopped for a lunch break. She called it her “luxurious five minutes break from the world before raiders jump them.” Ironically, the pair was ambushed by raiders right after they had set up a quick camp to eat. The raiding party was composed of six raiders, all men covered in oil and dirt, wielding submachine guns. Since they were ambushed, MacCready didn’t really have time to set up in a sniper’s nest to methodically pick all of the men off but it didn’t stop Gwendolyn from gesturing him to a dilapidated house nearby.

MacCready ran as quickly and quietly as possible to the crumbling building, hoping that his boss knew what she was doing, staying behind to deal with the raiders. As the party approached her, she had pulled out her double barrel shotgun from her pack in one swift motion. Two loud shots rang out followed by two screams of pure agony. Gwendolyn had mowed down two of the six raiders, blowing both of the men’s legs clean off.

As their buddies registered what had just happened, MacCready was able to pick one off with a bullet in between his eyes, clearing a path forward for his boss who had discarded the spent shotgun in favor of her pistol. She rolled to her left, escaping a vicious spread of projectiles coming from one of the three raiders left, finding herself behind cover. The two other men began to roar when the mercenary expertly killed the firing raider with a well-placed bullet.

Grasping the opportunity he had afforded her, Gwendolyn leapt out of cover, guns blazing, firing in rapid succession her 10mm pistol in the direction of her assailants. Some bullets found one of her targets, hitting the man in his left shoulder and left arm, as she ran towards the raiders. MacCready started lining up his next shot when a loud scream turned his blood to ice.

Pulling his face off his scope, he looked at his boss pulling out her sword from her scabbard with her right hand while holding her side with her left. She had definitely yelled when a bullet being sprayed her way hit her under her rib cage. Worried, the young man resumed his sniping position as quickly as possible and fired a last shot in a raider’s neck before getting ready to jump down the broken floor he was on. Another sound made him freeze in his tracks, but this time it was a gargled growl as Gwendolyn slashed the remaining raider’s throat open, spraying her face with fresh blood. The man crumbled to the ground in a red heap when she dropped to one knee, cursing. It didn’t take a minute for MacCready to be by his boss’s side, searching his own pack for medical supplies.

“Are you nuts?! You should have stayed under cover and let me take them down with my rifle, boss!”

“I don’t need your rhetorics right now, MacCready. Just inject me with a stimpack so we can eat and get going.”

“We really need to talk strategy for the next encounter, boss. I can’t aim properly if you just run into them you know.”

“We will, just _please_ inject my damn side already. We have a tight schedule to respect.”

Finding the demanded medicine, he started preparing the needle for injection. She had pulled herself back up and unbuckled her shredded leather plastron when he was ready to administer the stimpack. She didn’t even react as the syringe penetrated her skin right under the injured flesh. Gwendolyn looked more annoyed than anything that she had sustained damage in the encounter, which perturbed MacCready. He obviously wasn’t a stranger to bullet wounds since his line of work got him hurt more than anybody else in the Commonwealth but still, how could this vaultie not even look like the hole in her damn flesh was painful?

“There, all done,” he said, barely smiling.

“Good, now get some of those iguana bits out of my pack so we can snack real quick before we set off again.”

“Are you sure we shouldn’t get you checked back in Diamond City? The bullet did pierce through you…”

“I told you already Mac! Schedule! We don’t have time to go back on our tracks like that, or we’ll never make it to Cambridge before sundown.”

He had not expected her to yell at him for being worried about her well-being. Her words stung his heart as he gave in and started ruffling through her pack. _What’s wrong with her, she’s just frickin’ crazy._ He tossed bits of the cooked reptile meat at her before taking some out for himself. The altercation with the raiders and now his boss had dampened his appetite but he’d never turn down free food, not with his almost constant financial troubles.

They ate in relative silence, the atmosphere only being broken by Gwendolyn’s hisses as she shifted her weight from one leg to the other. The stimpack was already doing its usual miracle, reconstructing her side fairly quickly in what they both knew was a painful process. She had declined his offer to inject her with Med-X, claiming yet again that it would put them behind schedule.

“Seriously, what’s up with you and your fu-,” he caught himself before continuing, “freaking schedule. If you didn’t notice, the world is dead and nobody cares if you’re late or whatever.”

She sighed, “You don’t understand Mac… Who knows if Kellogg is going to stay at Fort Hagen for much longer. I need to deal with him as soon as possible before I lose my only chance at…”

She stopped. No amount of him prodding her for more details would unseal her lips at this point. MacCready didn’t understand what was so important for her to refuse to put him in the know, but he let it go for now. No reason to put additional pressure on his injured boss for the time being. She informed him that they would have to stop for the night at the Cambridge Police station, an idea he didn’t like. All he knew of Cambridge was that it was a nest of feral ghouls that nobody in their right mind would like to approach. If the boss really wanted to go there, however, he’d do his best to deliver her to her destination with no further injuries. She cleaned up her face of the raider’s blood as much as possible before recovering her shotgun and slowly walking away.

 

********************************

 

“Well if it isn’t my favorite paladin!”

“Initiate Clark,” acknowledged the hulking man in power armor.

“You mind if I crash with you for the night, Danse? I got shot, I’m in a crappy mood and I’m on the trail of the guy that kidnapped Shaun.”

The stoic man known as Paladin Danse lifted his eyebrows in surprise.

“Y-yes of course. Please have Scribe Haylen inspect your injury as soon as possible.”

“Fine, Danse, I will. Anything else I can do for you while I’m here?” Gwendolyn sighed.

“Well, you and I need to have a conversation about you abandoning your post, Initiate, but it can wait. Get yourself examined then report to me at the front desk of the police station.”

“Yes Paladin, sir”, she uttered under her breath as the steel giant turned away.

MacCready had reluctantly joined his boss in the police station. It had been converted in a Brotherhood of Steel scouting camp by Paladin Danse and his soldiers. The conversation he had just witnessed told him that Gwendolyn was related to them somehow without being a full-fledged soldier of steel, a fact that he did not find comforting. His life in the D.C. Wasteland had made him wary of the Brotherhood of Steel and their endeavors. To him, they were a group of bigoted fanatics ready to endanger the lives of others in their pursuit for technology. Being in their company in a feral infested area with an injured client did nothing to ease his mind.

A young woman ran towards Gwendolyn; medical pack in hand, ready to administer first aid. His boss smiled as the other woman approached her. The woman, who he assumed was Scribe Haylen, gestured for Gwendolyn to take a seat as she pulled out a healthy amount of stimpacks and Med-X from the pouch she was carrying.

“Oh Gwen, what kind of trouble did you get into this time?”

“Haylen, dear, just get me patched up. Danse wants to discipline me.”

“He doesn’t want to discipline you… He was so worried, you know. He’ll never admit it but he was awaiting your triumphant return and you never showed.”

“Haylen, Haylen, Haylen, I know I worried him but I had to go. I couldn’t be tied down here, not when I still have a kidnap victim to rescue. Oh and I did invite him to get me to Diamond City but he refused. His loss really. I found plenty of tech on the way there.”

The scribe laughed wholeheartedly. She then practically stabbed Gwendolyn with the syringe of Med-X before administering a stimpack to the affected area. The flesh had already mostly reconstructed itself, but it definitely required another dose.

“HAYLEN. I told you I DIDN’T WANT CHEMS.”

“Stop it, Gwen, you’re safe and sound now, no need to keep being in pain when you’ll just have to go to sleep anyways.”

“Oh, I swear…”

Gwendolyn didn’t get to finish her raged filled outburst before the Med-X hit her like a ton of bricks. She closed her eyes, mouth agape, letting her arms fall to her sides. When she opened her eyelids again, she looked about as glazed as possible.

“Ah great… Now I have to deal with Danse while I’m high as a kite. Hope you’re proud,” she slurred as she smiled like an idiot. Haylen giggled and left them alone for now, probably bringing back the medical pack to a safe.

Gwendolyn let herself slope into her chair, completely out of it. _Yeah, she’s definitely high. That was quick, though… Probably not used to chems._ His boss was now almost off her chair, ready to plop down, ass to the floor. In an attempt to save her some dignity, MacCready grabbed her under her armpits and lifted her back into her seat. She had looked up at him, smiling, before she closed her eyes again for a long while. The young man didn’t really know what to do until her mind cleared up enough for her to meet with the paladin so he pulled out his rifle and started taking it apart for superficial tuning.

An hour later, Gwendolyn opened her mouth and flapped her lips, seemingly wanting to talk. Eventually, her voice finally escaped her throat in a raspy whisper.

“Mac… Mac, I’m sorry for this.”

“No worries, boss, I’m fine.”

“No, I mean it Mac. I’ve been hiding so much from you. I’ll tell you what’s what after I speak with Danse.”

“Gwendolyn, you really don’t have to if you don’t want me to know anything. I get it.”

She looked miserable, like a child being denied some sweets. He’s just a hired gun; he’s got no right to know anything about her. He got paid, and he’d eventually have to leave her behind when she realized that she doesn’t want to pay for him anymore. That’s how it always happened, and that’s how he’d part ways with this mysterious vaultie.

“Mac… I like you. You’re a good shot, and you’re discreet. I’d rather not alienate you, so you won’t accept to stay by my side. I’ll pay you… just please don’t leave.”

Her plea was unexpected. He’s nothing special, just a mercenary looking to make some quick caps, not some therapist or a _friend_. Why would she care about having him around? The expectation of getting more caps was still tempting enough for him to remain in her employment.

“I told you before, boss. You keep the caps rolling; I won’t let you down.”

The misery and sadness in her face disappeared in an instant, replaced by pure happiness. She grabbed his hand with more force than he’d ever expect from a woman high off her ass and pulled him towards her. She shook his hand multiple times before finally letting go and getting up off her chair, legs barely holding on. He placed himself under her arm, his other hand on her hip to keep her from falling back down on her seat. Her steps were uncertain and wobbly but, with MacCready’s help, she eventually made it to the police station lobby.

“Danse! Danse, I’m here! Yell at me already yeah?”, she laughed.

“Initiate Clark. We should have this discussion without you being under the influence of chems. Come back when you’ve gotten some rest.”

“NO! No no, we talk now, Danse. I can talk, see I can talk. Mac, tell him I can talk.”

She expectantly stared into his blue eyes, waiting for him to defend her. The paladin didn’t even let MacCready start to string a sentence in his mind before snapping at his boss.

“Gwendolyn, you’re in no condition to talk about something so important. You, mercenary, take her to her cot in the next room,” he gestured to his right.

“Noooooooo Danse, I’m sorry okay? I’m sorry I left and worried you. I didn’t mean to. I needed to go away, you get that right? Can’t find Shaun if I’m stuck here.”

The paladin sighed, gripping his forehead with his large metal hand.

“You could have just waited for the Brotherhood to arrive. We would have helped.” He paused for a moment, pondering his next words carefully. “I would have helped you. You shouldn’t throw your life away like that.”

“I don’t have TIME, Danse. I found where the son of a bitch that kidnapped my baby and killed my husband is. He won’t stay there long, Danse. I don’t… I don’t…”

Gwendolyn broke apart in loud sobs, tears rolling down her cheeks. The paladin looked embarrassed and panicked, definitely not prepared to deal with a frail crying woman high on Med-X. Not knowing what to do either, MacCready was as embarrassed as Danse, doing his best to hold onto her so she didn’t fall to the floor. Her outburst did answer some questions for him, but he felt terrible about it. He didn’t want to learn of her secrets because she was on chems. Danse gestured him to his right yet again, looking away. The mercenary tried his best to get his boss into a cot.

Gwendolyn didn’t even fight him when he laid her down on the mattress in front of them. She simply kept crying. When the delicate operation of getting her in bed was over, he sat on the edge of the mattress, paralysed. _What should I do? Should I just leave her be? Should I try to comfort her? It’s not like I know her but… I can’t leave her like that, right?_

He didn’t get to act on any of his interrogations as she grabbed his arm with fervor. Her words were slurred and interrupted by sobs but he understood that she was trying to apologize to him. He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, squeezing. Her eyes lifted themselves to his, eyelids red and puffy from the tears that covered them. The hazel of her eyes looked grim and greyed, probably still glazed from the chems in her blood. MacCready delicately pushed her back down on her mattress with a smile, trying to encourage her to rest. It didn’t take long for her grip on his arm to weaken as she drifted to sleep.

 

********************************

 

His boss was up before him, shaking him awake.

“Come on Mac, we gotta go. I don’t want the wrath of the paladin to fall upon me.”

“Five more minutes…”

“I’m not your mom MacCready, get up!”

She pulled his sheets off of him. Fortunately, he had went to sleep fully dressed with his hat over his eyes. He sprung up from the mattress he was on, face red both in embarrassment and annoyance. Despite that, when he looked at her, he couldn’t help but smile back. She genuinely looked well-rested, dark circles gone from her young skin and a bright toothy grin welcoming him to follow her.

After a hasty breakfast composed of cooked carrots and Fancy Lad Snack Cakes, they both exited the police station as quietly as possible. Not wanting to cause Paladin Danse any more grief, she did produce a note for him, detailing where they were headed and what her intentions were after her mission was completed. She wanted to take a break back in Sanctuary, a settlement MacCready had never heard about, after dealing with Kellogg and getting her son back. Her plan for the day, however, was to trek all the way to Fort Hagen. They would hunker down at the Fort Hagen Filling Station for the night, a location she swore she had cleaned up when she tracked Kellogg a week ago. MacCready wasn’t exactly ready for the long road to their location but her gentle coaxing and promises of caps did help change his mind.

They vacated the police station at 6 a.m., travelling as fast as possible, avoiding feral hotspots. When midday came by, Gwendolyn decided to keep pushing ahead instead of stopping for a snack, instead opting for some Potato crisps as they walked. She offered a can to MacCready which he gladly accepted.

They logged in silence most of the way to the Filling Station, concentrating on any possible sign of life. His boss had pulled out her own sniper rifle, looking around through its impressive recon scope. He was genuinely interested in how she had been able to get her hands on such a prized mod that he himself had never been capable to find or afford.

On their way, they had made a very brief stop at some kind of farm run entirely by robots. She had told him it was called Graygarden and that she had helped one of the Mister Handy units there, Supervisor White, with a super mutant and water pump problem. She took the time to barter for some extra food for the way back from Fort Hagen which she evaluated would likely take place two days later.

MacCready couldn’t help but be impressed with her analytical and planification skills. It’s like she always knew exactly what she was doing at all times. In comparison, he lived day by day, never knowing where his next meal would come from. Normally, he never had much more than a handful of caps on him since he sent all of it on caravans back to his homestead in D.C. It’s a sacrifice he was happy to make since it helped keep his own son, Duncan, afloat.

Gwendolyn snapped him out of his thoughts when she gestured for him to get down into a crouch. She had identified _something_ through her advanced scope.

“A group of ferals roaming about...“ She paused, thinking, before she turned to face him, “they’re about 3 klicks from us. They’re blocking the road we need to take to get to Fort Hagen. We’ll have to dispatch them quickly; the sun is starting to lower on the horizon.”

She was right, the sky had taken an orange hue, calling forth the upcoming night. He nodded at her and resumed his way down the road, this time in a crouch. She followed, doing the same.

Sneaking was something that came easily to MacCready, a skill he had to perfect to become an efficient sniper. What he had not anticipated was for Gwendolyn to actually be better than him at his own game, sneaking off out of his sight without him even noticing she had moved. Irritated but impressed, he made a mental note of demanding her how she got so good at it. When he found her again, she had propped her sniper rifle over a rusted car, counting the number of enemies in their way. She advanced both her hands towards him, eight fingers raised. _Four each and about 800 meters away. Easy._ He propped his own rifle on the same car, waiting for her signal to start firing, as they had concluded was the best way for them to efficiently work cooperatively. It didn’t take long for her to signal him with a whistle. He gathered a deep breath and squeezed the trigger.

The first ghoul went down, head exploded from an accurate shot in the temple. Another one followed suit, pierced in a similar fashion by Gwendolyn’s own shot. The ferals then turned towards them, ready to start running in their direction. He managed another perfect shot into a ghoul, dispatching the rotting corpse-like creature with ease. Gwendolyn did the same with as much elegance and skill as he had. _Four to go_. He gathered another deep breath, readying another shot.

Two whistles came from his boss, signaling she was going to move towards the group, probably with her sword drawn. Another light squeeze of the trigger downed an enemy when he sighted her in his scope, running wildly towards the remaining three ghouls, sword at the ready. A first slice decapitated a ghoul cleanly while the second planted itself in the skull of another, rendering Gwendolyn defenseless as she tried to pluck the blade out. He had to act fast before the last ghoul jumped on her. Lining up a shot, he took it down with next to no effort. Satisfied, he got up, picking up his boss’s sniper rifle to join her.

“Great job Mac! I knew I could count on you!” Her smile was bright as she waved him down. _I don’t think I'll ever get bored of that smile, I swear._

“Our new signal system sure is working great, boss.”

“It’s not just that, dummy! You really are a fantastic sniper.”

“Well gee, thanks boss. Come on, let’s get to the Filling Station, it’s gonna be dark before long.”

“MacCready, don’t you ignore my compliments. Take ‘em; they don’t come cheap at all.” Her childish frown made him giggle as he handed her the sniper rifle she had left behind. She stared at the modified gun for a minute before looking at him again.

“I’m convinced you’d pull off miracles if you got to use Crack Flush.”

“Crack… Flush? What’s that?”

She lifted her sniper rifle towards him, assuming a triumphant pose.

“It’s my sniper! Crack Flush is what I called it. Try guessing why.”

“I-uhm I don’t know boss.”

“Mac, you didn’t even try to guess,” she pouted. “It’s what it does! Crack the skull, flush the brains out. Crack Flush!”

The revelation of the reason for such an absurd name caused him to contort in laughter. His killing machine of a boss enjoyed such a kiddy sense of humor. She laughed eagerly with him, not minding his lack of composure. She struck him across the back, grinning at him.

“If you want, I can make you a super advanced sniper rifle too, you know. I should have enough parts to craft another recon scope in Sanctuary, if you want one.”

“Wait, you’re serious?! You know what those scopes are worth, right?”

“Uhm… never thought about it. Probably like, I don’t know, 50 caps a piece?”

His jaw dropped at her ignorance. She was proposing to offer him a scope that was worth more than everything he owned without even knowing what that entailed. _What luck! Better not burst her bubble or I won’t get the damn scope_.

“Well, it’s a bit more than that but yeah. I’ll take it if you don’t mind, boss.”

Her eyes lit up like a thousand stars, visibly excited to have him agree to take on a custom gun of hers.

“Oh Mac! You won’t regret it. I’ll make you the best sniper rifle you’ll ever see! Oh oh, after our business here is over, I’ll take you to my workshop! I love tinkering with guns and blades and all that. I just hope I’ll be able to impress you…”

Her sudden shyness was just too adorable for him to refuse her. He gripped her shoulder, giving it a squeeze, as a sign of approval. Her cheeks were flushed, a bashful smile spreading across her features. MacCready had to admit, it was a lovely sight to behold, one he wouldn’t mind witnessing again. Unfortunately for them, they had to get indoors before dark so he let her go and turned away from her. They resumed their silent travels until they ultimately reached the Fort Hagen Filling Station which was, as assured by Gwendolyn, emptied, even outfitted with a sleeping bag and primitive fire pit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Holidays and a happy New Year to all of you! See you in a weeks time, in 2019! <3


	3. Frozen Intentions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where an old mercenary is heard.

Gwendolyn and MacCready spent a long uneventful night in the Red Rocket Filling Station. His boss had insisted he take the first watch, stating that she wanted him to get some rest before the morning of their assault on Fort Hagen. He didn’t object and simply let her take the second watch.

When he woke up the next morning, Gwendolyn was already up and about, rummaging through the Red Rocket’s garage. She had let him sleep in for some reason, something he did not appreciate. What if they had gotten ambushed while she had her hands full with whatever crap she was looking for in the abandoned station? MacCready got up, already dressed as they had not bothered removing most of their clothes before sleeping, and looking for his usual hat. It wasn’t where he had left it the night prior so he decided to interrogate his employer as she was the only one that could have taken the old hat from him.

“Hey boss, you got my hat?”

“Oh hey! Good morning Mac. Yeah I got it right here, just doing some modifications on it. I left breakfast on the fire for you.”

“Gwen, seriously, give me back my sh-stuff,” he huffed, frustration mounting. If there was one thing he just couldn’t accept from one of his employers, it’s for them to touch his belongings.

“Alright alright. I’m in the garage; get over here.”

MacCready entered the garage of the Red Rocket, expecting to see his dear hat completely ripped apart. To his surprise, all he saw was Gwendolyn’s back as she slaved away over an armour workbench.

“Ah, there, much better…” she said to herself out loud.

“I don’t care if you’re my boss or a super mutant, you can’t just take my things like that!”

She flinched, definitely not expecting the yell he barked in her direction. She turned around, clutching his hat to her chest. The hole that adorned the top of it was gone, replaced by an expertly stitched patch made from the same kind of fabric.

“I’m… I’m sorry MacCready… I just wanted to help…” she whispered, her voice strangled in her throat.

He snatched the old hat from her hands forcefully before turning it in his own to inspect whatever damage his boss had made to it. The broken seams in the fabric had been repaired, a patch applied to the hole on top of it and what seemed like heavy duty leather had even been stitched on the inside cup of the hat. He was speechless at the quality handiwork.

“You, you fixed it up? Why?”

“Well uhm… it seemed important to you, the way you never place it far from you when you take it off. I just wanted to do something nice for you since you escorted me all the way here, at Fort Hagen.”

“You paid me to do a job. I’m not about to destroy my reputation because the destination is far from Goodneighbor.”

“I guess you’re right. You’re just here because I paid you.” Gwendolyn was visibly taken aback by his blunt statement, he could tell.

“Thanks for the hat, I guess,” he uttered before turning away from his boss.

MacCready didn’t have time for pleasantries, not when he had such an important mission to accomplish in the Commonwealth. For all he knew, his son was already dead, but he didn’t want to even think of that possibility. He just had to find the cure to the boy’s illness; something he gathered was hidden somewhere in this part of the world. That’s all he was here to do, not to make friends or sleep around at his leisure. Despite all this, he still felt awful at how mean he had just been to his boss. He had not known her for long but he still knew there was something special about her. Nobody else in this apocalyptic world would dare be as _nice_ as she was. She seemed awfully out of place, like she came from another era all together, where being kind and helpful wasn’t going to get her killed. _She’s just too naive for this place. Just too dang naive._

He settled next to the small fire that had been erected to make breakfast, hat already back on his head, where it belonged. MacCready picked up the radstag meat that had been grilled over the flames, saliva coating the inside of his mouth. While it wasn’t a delicacy, he did really enjoy radstag skewers and steaks. He stuffed himself on the meal alone, content as the hot flesh staunched his hunger. When he was done, he noticed that another generous portion was left, probably Gwendolyn’s own meal, neglected by the fire.

Since his boss was still in the garage, hidden from his sight, MacCready decided to occupy his time by cleaning his rifle. The old gun had seen many better days and was in desperate need of replacement. His thoughts drifted back to the previous day when Gwendolyn had promised him a new scope as well as a custom gun. Guilt grabbed hold of his innards. _She offered to give me a new gun and even repaired my hat. And I decided to be a goddamn asshole about it. I better go see her… Apologize or something._ The mercenary got up and made his way to the garage.

He decided to try to sneak his way in, see if she was mad at him. He did expect her to yell at him or tell him to get his things and go in response to how he had treated her. All he could hear was the clank of a hammer hitting metal, and all he could see was Gwendolyn still bent over the armor workbench, sweat gathering at the nape of her neck. She had zipped down and tied her vault suit to her waist, torso only covered by an old t-shirt. Her Pipboy had been placed on a chair next to her, playing some music ever so softly, barely above a whisper.

“Hey boss, you should go eat. Can’t assault the fort on an empty stomach,” he attempted in a joking tone.

She ignored him. He approached lightly, slowly.

“Boss, you really should eat something. That radstag you grilled is amazing.”

She ignored him. He kept stepping at a snail’s pace towards her.

“Gwendolyn, come on. You can keep working on whatever this is later. Aren’t you always complaining about not having time for anything?”

She turned her head halfway towards him, observing him, but ultimately looked away to ignore him once more. Annoyed, he closed the distance in a leap and grabbed her right arm.

“Gwen, stop ignoring me.”

“I’m not paying you to mother me, MacCready. Go away.”

The harshness in her tone hit the mercenary to his core. He’d never think Gwendolyn was able of such hatred in her words. She tried to free her wrist from his grip to no avail.

“I’m sorry.”

“What?”, she said, incredulity in her voice.

“I said I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled at you about a hat of all things. You did a nice repair job, and I was just being an ungrateful jerk. So there, I’m sorry. Come get something to eat.”

“Mac…”

“No excuses, you’re coming with me.”

He pulled her away from her work which he discovered was a set of combat armor.

 

********************************

 

After a hearty meal, Gwendolyn showed the mercenary a stash of equipment and ammo she explained she had stored the week before in preparation for her encounter with Kellogg. He’d been impressed at the ingenuity of the hidden compartment she had used and been grateful for the ammo she had stocked. He took as many .308 bullets as he could carry for his own rifle, leaving the shotgun slugs and 10mm rounds behind for his boss, as she had instructed him to do. By the time he was done breaking camp, she had discarded her damaged leather armor in favor of the combat armor she had been tinkering with. It wasn’t in peak condition, but it definitely would protect her more than her old garbs. Another combat armor plastron, in a much better state, waited for him at the back of the garage. She had somehow convinced him to put it on. He realized that the nice torso piece was the one she had been repairing an hour ago.

“You sure you don’t want to wear this one, boss?”

“No no, I repaired it for you. I’d rather you have better protection on your chest since I can’t supply you with any other pieces for now.”

“Well, thanks,” he said, embarrassed.

“Okay so, before we storm in there, we need to figure out how we’re going to work together. I’m gonna leave my sniper rifle behind, leaving you to cover my back. I’ll take point and be in the front of our little formation, shotgun at the ready. You just have to cover me and snipe whatever you can, understood?”

“Yeah, I got it, boss. Let’s get this show on the road.”

They made their way over to the only entrance Gwendolyn had found to get into Fort Hagen, leaving the Red Rocket behind. As they entered, a chill took hold of MacCready’s neck. Something was very wrong here. His boss had her Pipboy light open, making any kind of stealthy approach impossible, not that she was interested in moving along undetected at the moment. She was wielding her double barrel shotgun as they advanced through the dark stairwells.

Suddenly, she froze as they both heard a cold and robotic voice echo in the room in front of them.

“Please reveal yourself.”

The synthesized voice had an uncanny quality to it, something that creeped out MacCready. The source of the voice came from the room in front of them, but he couldn’t quite make out where the synth was within. Gwendolyn gripped her shotgun ever so tightly, unsettled by the nature of the voice. The mercenary wondered if she had never encountered one of those early generation synths before. It was unheard of to see such robots near settlements, but you could sometimes see little groups wandering close to military installations and other technologically advanced locations.

After her moment of hesitation, his boss finally started moving, walking fast towards the room where the robotic voice had come from. Before MacCready could make out any of the synths against the darkness surrounding them, he heard Gwendolyn’s shotgun crack in the dusty air. Sparks flew about, confirming that she had hit her target, as she turned to face another assailant. More robotic voices joined the sound of slugs hitting the ground when Gwendlyn reloaded her gun.

“Engaging hostile life form”

“You must be terminated.”

“Fellow synth - destroyed.”

_Three more to shoot down._

MacCready moved in, ready to fire at the first synth he could. He got himself behind Gwendolyn, rifle at the ready. The PipBoy light didn’t emit that much of a glow but it was more than enough to see the bodies of the three first generation synths readying an attack against his boss. He squeezed the trigger, destroying one of the synths in an explosion of sparks. Gwendolyn fired her shotgun again in rapid succession, eliminating the two other hostiles. The yellow neon present in their eyes shut down.

They looked upon the carnage of metal and wires that were their enemies. Since they were all generation one synths, they had nothing covering their metal skeletons. Their internal systems and parts were disposed like organs, an architecture of wires, tubes, plastic and metal components looking eerily human. Gwendolyn took a step back, clutching her chest tightly with her arms, looking unwell.

“Mac, what are… _those_.”

“They’re early generation synths. Earlier models than Nick Valentine, the detective you saw in Diamond City. They’re basically just robots.”

“I, I see. So this place, Fort Hagen, really is controlled by the Institute, right? Kellogg is with the Institute…”

“Seems like it, boss.”

“So… they’re the ones that wanted my baby.”

Her voice was shaking, tears bubbling up from within her. It was a common rumor that the Institute would kidnap and replace people in major settlements. The organisation was called “The Boogeyman of the Commonwealth” by most, a nickname derived from all the stories swirling around. The Institute hired Conrad Kellogg to kidnap an infant, and for what reason, the two of them couldn’t even imagine. Gwendolyn turned away after scavenging what little was left of the synths they had dispatched, making her way in silence towards the next room. Her shoulders hung low, shotgun at her side. MacCready simply followed, ignoring the feelings he felt for yet another parent broken like he was.

 

********************************

 

They made their way further down into the facility when a low, gravelly voice boomed around them.

“Well if it isn’t my old friend, the frozen TV dinner. Last time we met, you were cozying up to the peas and apple cobbler.”

Gwendolyn froze, her expression unreadable. MacCready, worried, tapped her shoulder, trying to get a reaction out of her. She wouldn’t move, she wouldn’t breathe. She dropped her shotgun suddenly in a loud clank of metal on metal. The PipBoy lit up the hall they were in with a cold green glow. Fortunately, they had finished dispatching the gen one and gen two synths inhabiting this part of the facility. After a moment, she finally spoke.

“That voice… It’s _HIM_.”

“Who, Kellogg?”

She simply nodded her head.

“Boss, what did he mean by frozen?”

“He’s here. He’s really here.”

Gwendolyn ignored his question, instead picking up her fallen gun. She then looked up at the ceiling before roaring.

“I don't know if you can hear me but you're dead. YOU'RE FUCKING DEAD.”

No answer.

Gwendolyn holstered her shotgun on her backpack, opting to dash out in a mad sprint, sword in hand. MacCready tried to yell for her to stop, pleas she ignored as she had his question. He struggled to keep up with her pace as she butchered synths in her enraged run. The precision of her sword swings was astonishing, severing the wires and tubes that connected the robots’ heads to the rest of their metal frames. Even the ones in plastic armor crumbled as she sliced through them with ease. _I hope I never piss her off enough to get her after me. Don’t think I’d be much of a challenge._ The voice came back over the intercom, stopping Gwendolyn in her berserk tracks.

“Sorry your house has been a wreck for two hundred years. But I don’t need a roommate. Leave.”

“What is he talking about, Gwen?! Two hundred years?”

As what had become usual for the day, she ignored MacCready, resuming her rage fueled carnage.

Eventually, she slowed down, winded from all the running, mad yelling and slicing. She dropped to the floor, sitting with her back to a wall, exhausted. MacCready was just as winded, if not more than her since he had to avoid all the mechanical carcasses she left in her wake. The voice then decided to grace them with its presence once more.

“Hmph. Never expected you to come knocking on my door. Gave you 50/50 odds of making it to Diamond City. After that? Figured the Commonwealth would chew you up like jerky.”

“Gwendolyn, please explain all this to me. You were… You weren’t really frozen for two hundred years right? That’s just nuts.”

“Mac, not now. After this, in Sanctuary, I swear to tell you everything about me. Just please, no more questions.”

“You promised once the same thing and I still didn’t get anything out of you.”

“I did?”

“Yeah, at the Police Station. Wouldn’t stop apologizing and crying.”

“Goddamn it. I hate taking chems…”

Her childish pout had him smile for the first time of the day. With everything going on, his boss had not been acting like herself, or at least what he thought was herself. He realized over the last couple minutes that she was not as she seemed. He didn’t think she was able of such rage and carnage. He didn’t think she was able of such precise killing either. This woman was still such a mystery to him and now, with this new nebulous information, he was even more confused yet interested in her. _Maybe she could help me. Maybe we could take down Winlock and Barnes together._ The thought of getting her help to cut his leash to the Gunners, while selfish, made him look forward to the days ahead, a feeling he forgot all about when he arrived in the Commonwealth a couple of years ago. This strange, naive, gentle, _deadly_ woman could be what he needed to save his son.

His train of thoughts was interrupted when his boss finally got up from the floor, visibly ready to continue their assault on Kellogg. This time, she sheathed her sword and took her shotgun in her steady hands, eyes filled with determination and renewed energy. They made their way carefully through the tortuous corridors and stairs leading still farther into the military base. By now, they were definitely underground, MacCready thought. The murky air filled their lungs with dust as they trekked into the concrete halls.

“Look. You’re pissed off. I get it. I do. But whatever you hope to accomplish in here? It is not going to go your way,” boomed the voice over the intercom yet again.

This time, Gwendolyn paid no attention to it, simply continuing to walk amidst the corpses of dispatched synth units littering the ground from her own doing. MacCready didn’t have much to do as she expertly blew each and every robot away, one shot at a time. Her skills with the custom weapon of her own design were undeniable. When they arrived in what seemed like an office atrium, the voice of Kellogg rang around them once more.

“You’ve got guts and determination, and that’s admirable. But you are in over your head in ways you can’t possibly comprehend.”

Gwendolyn forged ahead, unshaken by the low and threatening voice calling out to her. They finally reached a door that MacCready’s boss opened without slowing down. The room beyond it had a couple of beds and multiple desks scattered about. It seemed safe enough to settle in for a quick break. Gwendolyn had come to the same conclusion as her companion, sitting on one of the beds. She had her pack open, sifting through boxes of spare ammunition when the voice came back on the intercom.

“It’s not too late. Stop. Turn around and leave. You have that option. Not a lot of people can say that.”

Whetstone in hand, Gwendolyn started to sharpen the serrated blade of her sword since she was done inspecting both her guns. MacCready decided to do the same, pulling out his rifle. The sound of the smooth stone on the blade of her sword filled the air as they both prepared for what could possibly be their last combat. MacCready would do all he could to protect the both of them but, against Conrad Kellogg, deadliest man in the Commonwealth, he expected the unexpectable. Gwendolyn didn’t seem to share his anxiety at all as she simply pressed the blade on the stone, looking as determined as one can be.

“Hey boss, you sure about this? About taking on Kellogg?”

“Getting cold feet, Mac?” she snickered in response.

“Maybe. You know we probably won’t survive this, right?”

“Have a little more faith in your boss, won’t you? If anybody is dying today, it’s Kellogg. I’m not letting that snake get away from me.”

“I know you won’t Gwen. I just… Well, I’m not ready to die just yet, you know.”

“And you won’t.”

The confidence in her voice unsettled him. Nobody, not even him, could promise such a thing with a straight face. He was going into the den of a _monster_ with a crazed woman he barely knew to avenge a family he never met. Should he be here? If he died, his son would be as good as dead too. _I just can’t die. Not yet._ Before he could speak his mind, Gwendolyn’s voice resonated in the echoey chamber they were in.

“I won’t let you die, Mac. I’d rather die first than cause the death of someone I appreciate and trust. I want you to stay behind, hidden, when I confront Kellogg. I just refuse to put you in more  danger than I think I can handle. And, well, I’m not sure I can take down Kellogg. With all the stories and warnings, and his involvement with the Institute, I’ve no idea what’s going to happen. Just please promise me to run and never look back if I die, okay? Just get away from here and keep on going on.”

“Are you nuts? Going in there alone is suicide and you know that, Gwen. You can’t-”

“I know it is, but it’s what I _have_ to do,” she interrupted him. Her tone was filled with urgency as she continued, “You _will_ stay behind. If you find a spot where they can’t see you and you can see them, then be my guest to look through your scope at what is going on. But under no circumstances will you step into the room where Kellogg is until he hits the floor. I might not know what I’m doing, but I’ll make something up.”

“No, boss, you-”

“This is not a discussion. We’re doing it this way, that’s all.”

She got up, packed her things and stepped into the corridor stretching from where they were into the abyss. The voice came back on for what they both hoped was the last time.

“Okay, you made it. I’m just up ahead. My synths are standing down. Let’s talk.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!  
> Dear old Conrad Kellogg... Even after writing him and having to study his character very carefully, I still can't see him as anything but evil. I would love to know how you guys see this old grizzled mercenary and his ideology.


	4. Conrad Kellogg

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where Gwen deals with loose ends. Where MacCready meets a familiar figure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warning: Strong language, graphic violence and a bit of alcohol abuse for good measure.

MacCready reluctantly hid in the shadows, observing the surreal scene unfolding in front of him through his rifle’s scope. Gwendolyn was staring down Conrad Kellogg in a room filled with consoles and terminals. The man was surrounded by a small army of gen one and gen two synths and as promised, they were all standing down. His boss had assumed a confident pose, but MacCready saw beyond her mask easily. Gwendolyn’s neck was flushed while her hands were gripping her shotgun with white knuckles. She also had a slight twitch in her left knee, betraying the terror she was experiencing. The young mercenary couldn’t blame her since she was faced with the deadliest man in the Commonwealth. Kellogg, in comparison, had a truly chilling grin plastered on his lips, hands raised in the air. The large scar covering his left eye gave off the most intimidating sight MacCready had ever witnessed. This _monster_ stood there in his greaser outfit, completely devoid of fear; he seemed almost comfortable with this turn of events. Even with a double barrel shotgun pointed at his head, Kellogg was visibly unaffected.

“And there she is. The most resilient woman in the Commonwealth,” started off Kellogg.

“Where is my son? Where’s Shaun?”

“Hmph. Lady, I’m just a puppet like you, My stage is a little bigger, that’s all,” answered the man. He looked at Gwendolyn with interest before resuming his monologue: “Shaun’s a good kid. So maybe he’s not quite a “baby” anymore. But he’s doing great. Only… he’s not here. He’s with the people pulling the strings.”

Losing her fragile composure, Gwendolyn yelled, “Tell me where he is, damn it!”

“Fine. I guess you’ve earned that much. Shaun’s in a good place. Where he’s safe, and comfortable, and loved. A place he calls home. The Institute.”

Gwendolyn took a step back, prompting the synths observing her to point their laser rifles towards her. Kellogg simply let his hands drop to his sides before giving a signal to the synths to put their weapons down again with his chin.

“No… That’s not true. It can’t be. I… I’ve come so far…”

“Yes you have,” answered Kellogg, not having the decency to hide his amusement, “And believe it or not… I’m actually kind of sorry you wasted your time. In another life, you probably would have been a good mother. But here… in this terrible reality? You just don’t get that chance.”

Kellogg took a minute to let his words sink into Gwendolyn. MacCready couldn’t see her full reaction since he could only see her back, but he had an idea of the despair that was painted on her features. Her enemy was _smiling_ , gleefully so. He took immense pleasure in destroying this woman, this mother, with his venomous banter. It made MacCready’s blood boil, forcing him to take a deep breath to avoid shooting his rifle at the other man’s face. Gwendolyn ultimately took a step forward and surprised her companion with her renewed determination.

“Here. The “Institute.” I’ll find my son no matter where he is.”

“Ha! That’s the spirit. You know, you surprise me, I have to admit. I find myself actually kind of… liking you. And I admire your dedication. Even if it is ultimately useless. But I think we’ve been talking long enough. We both know how this has to end. So… you ready?”

Gwendolyn didn’t bother dignifying Kellogg’s question with an answer before firing her shotgun. Somehow, the man _avoided_ a point blank shot with what seemed like relative ease. MacCready took aim at the synths finally moving in onto Gwendolyn, ready to assist despite her orders not to interfere. His boss didn’t miss a step in her deadly dance with Kellogg, moving to her left and firing another shell. Her enemy took out his own weapon, a .44 caliber revolver, and fired as well. Both killing machines kept firing, missing each other until the synths started their own assault.

Blue lasers filled the room, paired with screams of pain and rage as one bolt hit Gwendolyn in her left shoulder. Incapable of wielding her heavy shotgun any longer due to her newly burnt flesh, she threw it at a synth with enough force to incapacitate the robot. MacCready squeezed his own trigger, rendering the same synth inert. Ardent yellow neons turned towards his position as he rolled behind a desk he had pushed to the ground as cover. Another shot rang from his rifle, hitting one of the robots square in the eye. The distraction allowed Gwendolyn to pull out her 10mm pistol, resuming her attack on Kellogg whom had also used the moment to his advantage. The man disappeared, leaving behind a shimmering transparent afterimage. _Stealth Boy, of course._

MacCready fired as many bullets as he could towards the advancing synths, dispatching three of them. Two were left, firing blue lasers in his direction while their synthesized voices gave each other status reports. The young man’s clip was empty, putting him in a precarious situation. He decided to take the time to reload his rifle, leaving a window for the robotic beings to dangerously approach his cover. A blue bolt hit the wood of the desk, setting it ablaze. Unfazed, MacCready fired his newly refilled rifle at the closest synth, destroying it. The last enemy left, however, didn’t hesitate to fire his laser pistol, hitting the young man in the chest. Part of the combat plastron melted away, revealing burnt fabric and skin. He fired one last time, punishing the synth with impunity. The skin of his chest was painful but fortunately not burnt, thanks to the combat armor his boss had provided for him. Realizing he was out of danger, he stood up from behind the burning furniture to look for Gwendolyn. What he saw horrified him.

Kellogg held Gwendolyn by the throat, strangling her with a single large hand. He had lifted her off the ground, leaving her to helplessly swing her legs. She held onto the arm of the man threatening her life, trying to free herself. Blood dripped from her face and right hip, the latter having been shot. Low guttural growls escaped her lips as she seemed to lose herself to the grip around her neck. Kellogg was also injured, bleeding from his shoulders, his chest and his left leg. Gwendolyn had tried to incapacitate him through precision shots to no avail.

“Did you really think you had a chance here?” snickered Kellogg. “You should have let him go. Your time’s done. Your son is exactly where he belongs.”

Gwendolyn thrashed as hard as she could in his grasp, prompting her assailant to squeeze her delicate airways further.

“At least, I can give you this. You’ll die knowing he’s safe, and happy.”

MacCready took his chance to shoot the wrist of the hand wrapped around Gwendolyn. In his surprise and from pain, Kellogg dropped her to the floor and looked in the young man’s direction. His boss started gasping for air, unable to move. In an attempt to save her, the young mercenary walked into the well-lit corridor separating him from Kellogg.

“You picked the wrong day to piss me off, Kellogg! I’m gonna send you to hell!”

Kellogg shrugged and pulled out his revolver, clearly not threatened by MacCready’s taunts. Gwendolyn’s companion squeezed the trigger first, hitting his target in the neck. Against anybody else, such a shot would lead to a confirmed kill, but he knew that something was terribly wrong about Kellogg. He survived the puncturing hit, wound spitting out blood, and took aim at MacCready. A bullet was shot in a loud distinctive crack, hitting the mercenary in his right shoulder. The lack of armor meant that he was immediately incapacitated, unable to use his shooting arm any longer. The revolver chamber spun in a click, readying what was most probably going to be the killing shot. MacCready had fallen to his left knee, clutching his bleeding shoulder, pronounced fear devouring his face. _That’s it. I’m going to die. My shot did nothing to this monster. I’m… I’m sorry Duncan, Lucy..._

Kellogg let out an angry yelp as a blade sprouted out of the flesh of his firing arm. Gwendolyn had gotten back up, wheezing, a hand around her own neck. Her sword had found its target, forcing Kellogg to finally drop his revolver. She swiped left, freeing her blade while leaving a gaping wound of gushing flesh in her nemesis’s arm. She kept at it, each slice detaching flesh from Kellogg’s body, cursing out the rage that filled her bloodied body. She started to slow down her angry sword when her assailant looked more like a pile of cut up brahmin than a man.

“Where’s my son?! Where’s the Institute?! Why did you kill my husband?! Why did you destroy my life?! Why did you hurt my friend?!”

“Gwen…”

MacCready had found the strength to get back to his feet, his pierced shoulder inert and slumped. He slowly walked towards his employer as she kept butchering the corpse of Conrad Kellogg in a violent rage, screaming with her broken and damaged voice.

“Gwen, stop… It’s over.”

“WHERE IS MY SON, KELLOGG?!”

“Gwen, he’s dead. Stop it now…”

A final hit dropped over the flesh and blood that remained of Kellogg, planting the sword in what was left of the dead man’s skull. Retching, Gwendolyn fell on her back, leaving her blade in place. Tears and sobs took hold of her damaged body as she hugged herself in a fœtal position. The pain and despair she felt could be heard through the concrete battlefield, causing vibrations in the dusty, stale air. MacCready settled beside her, knee on the ground. He brought as many medical supplies out of his pack as he could to start the arduous job of getting the both of them to stop bleeding. Gwendolyn refused to move or let him take a look at her injured face and hip so he started with his own injury. One stimpack later, his right arm was usable again, giving him enough leverage to break his boss’s position. Her face had endured heavy cuts along her jaw and eyebrows, her left eye was bruised beyond recognition and her lips were emaciated, blood dripping from them. The young mercenary started by administering a stimpack to her hip, closing up the wound she suffered. Fortunately, the bullet had only grazed her, leaving a bleeding mark but no actual hole. The medicine must have helped with the overall pain somewhat, causing her limbs to relax slightly. With her good eye, Gwendolyn looked up at MacCready, tears coating her cheeks.

“You weren’t supposed to interfere, Mac. You could have died…”

“Yeah well, I’m not known for letting my clients bite the dust without doing anything about it. Can you lift your head a bit?”

She complied, letting the mercenary prick her neck with another much-needed stimpack.

“You got hurt because of me. He shot you because of my own vengeance. I failed you.”

“Nah, you didn’t boss. Come on, let’s get you back up.”

“Thank you…”

Her voice had been nothing more than a whisper when her head fell back. Panicked, MacCready shook Gwendolyn.

“Hey, hey, stay with me, Gwen. Keep your eyes open.”

“In my pack,” she struggled, “there’s a flare gun. The terminal over there… opens the door. Go out… fire. Friends will come.”

His boss lost consciousness as her last few words escaped her chapped lips in mumbles. He propped her back against a wall and sprinted towards the terminal she had pointed out. Sure enough, an option on the black screen read _Open security door_. Clicking on the green text immediately opened up the only closed door in the room. MacCready reached for Gwendolyn’s backpack, equipment he had set beside her unconscious body. As she had instructed, he pulled out the flare gun which was already loaded and ran out the room.

An elevator ride later, he found himself outside, covering his face from the setting sun. It dawned on him that they had been in Fort Hagen for over six hours now, since they entered the military facility a bit before noon. He hesitantly held the flare gun above his head, pondering if it was truly safe for both him and Gwendolyn to announce their presence. _No other option. I don’t think I can carry her out of here with my shoulder like this. Here goes nothing._ The flare shot up, leaving a trail of smoke in its wake. The red signal slowly started dropping towards the ground after its ascension, reminding MacCready of a shooting star. If “friends” were supposed to show up because of it, he sure hoped they’d make it before they both died of starvation and blood loss. He settled himself on the ground, pulling out the binoculars that hung from his belt.

Over the next hour, he spotted a number of mongrels and mole rats, nothing he couldn’t handle with a few well-thrown rocks. Nobody had showed up, contrary to what Gwendolyn thought would happen if he fired the flare. Getting exasperated and worried for the unconscious woman he had left behind, MacCready stood up, ready to head back in. Before putting his binoculars back on his belt, he took a last peek at the horizon. That’s when he saw a platoon of poorly equipped men running towards Fort Hagen, one of them sporting a strange-looking cowboy hat. _Isn’t that… the Minutemen? I thought they had been wiped out by the Gunners._ The man in the hat quickened his pace when we saw Fort Hagen, barking at his men to quicken the pace loud enough for the young mercenary to hear him. _At least, they aren’t raiders or something. Guess those must be the “friends.”_

The leader of the little troop arrived at the military base, shouting.

“General?! General, are you alright?!”

Following the lack of answers, he added “General, you fired one of the flares I gave you. It’s Garvey. Come on out.”

MacCready stepped out from cover.

“I dunno who you’re talking about but I was told to fire that flare!”

“Who are you? Do you know the General? Is she with you?”

“Look man, just get up here, I have an injured woman that needs all the help she can get.”

“Men, you heard this stranger, let’s get up on that roof. Secure the area like the General showed you. I’ll go check on the injured.”

“Yes Colonel!”, all the Minutemen shouted in unison.

It took five minutes for all of them to get settled on the roof of Fort Hagen, using the scaffoldings scattered around as a way to climb the concrete fortress. The cowboy hat man, Colonel Garvey, joined MacCready, his hand outstretched for a handshake, a gesture that the mercenary ignored. Looking hurt, Garvey put his hand away, instead adjusting his hat before speaking.

“Preston Garvey of the Commonwealth Minutemen. That flare you shot was specifically made for our General. I figure you must know her, goes by Gwendolyn.”

“Gwen is your general? Now that’s a story I’ll want to hear from her.”

“You said there was an injured woman. Where is she?”

“Oh yeah, uhh, Gwendolyn got pretty beat up down there, follow me.”

They both stepped in the elevator for the long ride down to Kellogg’s lair.

 

********************************

 

Gwendolyn was breathing slowly, deeply, still unconscious. Preston had yelled at MacCready for letting her get in such a state before slaving away over her, bandaging her wounds as best he could. The man was definitely well versed in first aid so he let him work in silence. In the meantime, MacCready had been scavenging what he could from the room, finding some medical supplies, a magazine, some metal components and other baubles that he figured could be worth a couple of caps. He had also rounded up all the weapons he, his boss and their assailants had dropped, being careful to put Gwendolyn’s shotgun safely back on the straps she had made for it on her pack. Eventually, his boss let out some coughs, marking her return from her unconscious stupor.

“Hey, Preston,” she started off, weakly, “guess Mac did shoot the flare after all.”

“General, are you alright? Are you still hurting somewhere?”

“No, no. Don’t worry about me, Preston. Please check my friend’s shoulder. He got a pretty nasty bullet wound in the commotion.”

“He’s fine, Gwendolyn. What happened here? How did you get all these injuries?”

“Kellogg. He’s dead. I killed him.”

She pointed at the mangled corpse, a slight smile on her damaged lips.

“So, General, what did he have to say?”

“The Institute has Shaun.”

Shock spread on Preston’s features. He tried to gather more information from her, but she simply refused to give him anything else. All she would say was that she needed a vacation. MacCready couldn’t help but feel relieved that the intense combat and revelations had not affected Gwendolyn’s dry humour. She definitely had some thinking and planning to get to but at least she sounded a bit more like herself than she did while slicing Kellogg to bits. Despite Garvey’s disapproval, she eventually got to her feet, stumbling towards the carcass of her enemy. MacCready had removed the sword from the corpse’s skull, leaving the grey matter exposed. Gwendolyn frowned as she looked upon the carnage she caused, most of her focus on the leaking brains. The mercenary gagged when his boss unceremoniously dipped her gloved hand in the squishy flesh, moving the wasted brain around.

“What the heck is wrong with you?! That’s disgusting!”

“There’s something in there…”

“Yeah, freaking brains. Leave it alone before I vomit all over you.”

“Ah ha... what’s this?”

She extracted a part of Kellogg’s brain that had wires and circuits all over it. Turning it around in her hand, she looked puzzled as to the nature of the bionic component she had pulled out of the corpse’s head. MacCready, still feeling nauseous, was probably even more confused at the technology his boss held up in the light. It wasn’t the kind of technology you would find in a dead synth’s head, but it definitely reminded him of the other Institute robots he had encountered.

“Seems like Kellogg was more machine than man at this point,” Gwendolyn said, pensive.

“Well, it would explain how he survived so many bullets…”

“Yep. The Institute must have… I don’t know, enhanced him somehow. Well either way, I need to bring this to Nick Valentine, who should be waiting for us in Sanctuary.”

“Alright, boss, let’s get going.”

“Not so fast, General,” interjected Preston. “You’re in no condition to travel right now.”

“Preston, I’m not staying cooped up in this tomb. I’m going home whether you like it or not.”

“Gwendolyn, ma'am, at least let us escort you back.”

“UGH. Fine Garvey. Lead the way,” Gwendolyn abdicated, annoyed.

 

********************************

 

The group walked in the night until they reached a settlement known as “Sunshine Tidings Co-op”, a little village under Minutemen protection. MacCready had learned a lot about the faction during their short trek. Preston had explained that he had appointed Gwendolyn as their General after she saved him and some settlers in Concord from both a raider attack and a deathclaw ambush. The event had occurred a month ago and, since then, she had single-handedly brought the Minutemen back from the brink by establishing thriving little communities in their name all over the Commonwealth. She had also lead her men bravely during what Garvey had named the “Battle for Independence”, a battle between his boss and a mirelurk queen in an old fort that he called “the Castle”. MacCready had heard about that place back before the Minutemen had reportedly been eradicated; it was their base of operations. He noticed the frown on Gwendolyn’s face as Preston recounted the tale and animatedly told him how amazing she was as their General, the head of the entire faction. While her efforts made him think that she definitely cared about the Minutemen, her scowl made him realize that she didn’t want to be their General at all.

Both he and his boss settled in one of the refurbished houses sprinkled among the little community. All the farmers and guards had gotten out of bed the moment they arrived to shake Gwendolyn’s hand and thank her for giving them another chance at life in the wasteland. She simply nodded at all her adoring fans before disappearing in the house, locking the door tightly.

“Glad that’s finally over,” she said.

“No kiddin’. These people just adore you, don’t they?”

“I wish they didn’t. I’m not some kind of hero. I’m just another person struggling to survive in this nightmare of a world.”

“Well, for what it’s worth, I think you’re a good person, boss. You help others with not much in return.”

She smiled sadly at MacCready as she freed her bruised body from her combat armor. She then unzipped her vault suit, revealing the extent of the damages Kellogg had inflicted on her. Her neck had turned purple from the strangulation she had suffered, she sported a black eye and the cuts she had received when her wraparound goggles had been broken were starting to close up. She stripped down to her undershirt and panties, causing MacCready to suddenly turn around to look away from her in embarrassment.

“Maybe… I sure don’t feel good. I just feel like a murderer and like I abandoned my humanity when I stepped out of the vault I was trapped in. Regardless, these people don’t want a good person; they want a leader and I’m not sure I’m up for it.”

“You already proved to be a great leader, Gwendolyn. Just look around you for a second. You made all this. Isn’t that a good thing to do? All things considered, you're doing a hell of a job.”

“They made all this themselves,” she answered, dryly. She clearly wasn’t interested in continuing the conversation so MacCready dropped the subject.

“Alright boss. You should head to bed; you need the rest before we set out again in the morning.”

“Yeah. I guess I will. Goodnight.”

The house they were in had two beds, leading him to believe that she intended for him to also turn in for the night in the building. Somehow, he felt like he shouldn’t be there so he decided to head out. _God, I need a drink_.  

The small village had every amenity you could need, even a fully functional bar. MacCready settled on a stool, ready to drink himself to sleep for the night. His eyes wandered from one settler to the other, even noticing a damaged Mister Handy unit that would only say things such as “Woah, man” occasionally. Everyone around him looked so happy, partying at the return of their General and Colonel to the homestead, beers in hand as they sang songs. It wasn’t close to Magnolia’s exquisite voice, but the atmosphere the singing created was better than the deathly silence he experienced back at Fort Hagen. He still didn’t fully comprehend why he risked his life so foolishly for Gwendolyn, but at this point, he couldn’t care less. They were both alive, ready to keep raking in the caps together. MacCready ordered a beer from the bartender, sipping it while he got lost in his thoughts. The mission she hired him for was completed since they left Fort Hagen behind. Gwendolyn had gotten Preston Garvey to get her things back from the Filling Station before they set out into the dark night, officially leaving the location behind for the foreseeable future. Does this mean that she’ll send her mercenary away, now that she clearly doesn’t need his services? She had an entire army available to her, so why pay for MacCready to keep following her? It saddened the young man that he’d have to part ways with Gwendolyn. He had grown to like her in the few days they had been traveling together. He wanted to know more about her. He wanted to tell her about himself… _She called me her friend. Does she really want me, a hired killer, for a friend? She’s got better people around her already, what would be the point?_ MacCready kept drinking until his mind itself became muddled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone is still enjoying themselves!  
> I started my semester this week and I have some really intensive courses this time around. As such, I'll be uploading on Wednesdays instead so I don't forget to actually post on here. Wednesday is my dead day for the week :)  
> If any of you are in university as well, I wish you good luck and tons of success in your studies!


	5. Deep Dive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where a brain is explored, a mercenary gets really drunk and a trip is planned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Alcohol abuse and a bit of strong language. Gwen can be such a potty mouth ;)

A pale sun had started to show over the horizon when MacCready finished his fifteenth beer. Not much remained of his consciousness and he could barely string together enough words to order another bottle. The bartender that had been in post at the beginning of his bender had been replaced by a woman taking over for the rest of the night. The festivities had died down and only a couple of candles still lit the old haggard faces of the other bar flies that wouldn’t leave the premises. His inebriated state pushed back all the shame and anger he felt towards himself, replacing them with sadness. The only things left in his mind were a mix of slurred thoughts revolving around Gwendolyn, Lucy and Duncan, death being the central concept he latched onto.

A figure he recognized due to the weird hat it was wearing came to him, a can of purified water in hand. Preston sat beside him and offered him the can, which he took. Satisfied, the man in the hat grabbed his shoulder, giving it a slight shake. MacCready snarled, annoyed at the camaraderie Garvey exhibited towards him. _Don’t know him. Fake._

“I have a couple questions for you, MacCready. I need to know what happened at Fort Hagen and the nature of your relationship with the General.”

“None of your business.”

“If it has to do with the General, it’s definitely my business, mercenary.”

“Gwen’s a big mungo, she can do what she wants.”

Preston lifted his brows quizzically at the foreign description, obviously not recognizing the particular vernacular of Little Lamplight.

“Come on, just tell me what happened and I’ll leave you to drown your sorrows, what do you say?”

“I said no. Leave me alone, man.”

“The General trusts you, called you a friend. For her safety, I need to make sure you’re not about to turn on her.”

“Shut up P-Pesto,” MacCready slurred loudly. “She paid me, we killed a guy. That’s it.”

“It’s Preston, and God, you’re a mess. I’ve no idea what she sees in you. You’re just a drunk and a hired killer.”

MacCready leapt to his feet with as much stability as he could muster. He threw a punch, missing Garvey pathetically.

“Leave her alone. You’re just… forcing her to be what you want from her.”

“I made her General because I believe in her, because she’s a great strategist and an even better leader. She saved the Minutemen, she led all of us. You’ve no idea who or what she is and she doesn’t need you.”

Preston grabbed MacCready by the shoulders, stopping his useless assault of punches. In his state, the young man was no match for the Colonel, but it didn’t stop him from trying to hit him. Annoyed, Garvey pushed him back, making him stumble to the ground. A table and two chairs fell over in a loud noise, attracting the attention of the settlers waking up. They were all murmuring to each other as they watched the two men stare down one another. Their whispers were only stopped when a door swung open violently, revealing a half dressed Gwendolyn. She had haphazardly hitched her vault suit to her hips and grabbed her sword in one hand. Her eyes, filled with fury, almost shone with flames as the dawn illuminated her injured face.

“What’s going on, you FUCKS,” she screamed.

“General! Your pet mercenary is being rude and unorderly.”

“I don’t _care_ for your tone, Preston. Why’s MacCready on the floor?”

“He was trying to punch me, Gwendolyn. He’s drunk.”

The mercenary tried to get himself back up with the help of a nearby table, wiping off dirt from his face. The sudden change in his position made him nauseous beyond belief, threatening to make him vomit. His boss had walked towards him in long strides, her eyes planted into his. He turned his head away to try to avoid her wrath.

“I leave you to do whatever you want for one night and you get drunk? I can’t believe this. And you,” she turned towards Preston Garvey who only stood there, jaw to the floor, “why did you provoke him in the first place? What did you want from him.”

“I just-”

“Oh wait I know,” Gwendolyn interrupted him, tone filled with sarcasm, “you probably wanted to check if he was Minutemen material, right? Probably asked him why he’s with me as well, right? You’re not my goddamn babysitter Garvey! You forced me into this General business but it doesn’t give you the right to snake your way into mine!”

“I’m… I’m sorry General.”

“Yeah you better be! Come on MacCready, let’s get you sorted out.”

She grabbed the mercenary’s arm, pulling him to the cabin she had slept in during the night with great strength. Her grip was painful, but he felt like he deserved it somehow. _Fucked up again…_ Gwendolyn pushed him in the restored house before slamming the door behind them.

“Mac, what are you even doing, getting drunk like that?” she asked, surprisingly softly.

“I- I dunno.”

“What am I gonna do with you… You need to sober up before we can leave this place…”

She paced in the cabin, going from a dresser to her pack, pulling out different food items and cans of purified water. MacCready struggled to sit on one of the vacant beds, the nausea returning to him once more. Noticing his skin almost turning green, Gwendolyn quickly supplied him with a bucket, in which he vomited instantly. A gentle hand brushed circles on his back, soothing both his nerves and his nausea.

“I’m sorry, Gwen. He just… He kept saying stuff…”

“Shh, it’s alright, take your time,” she gently murmured.

“Said you didn’t need me. Said I was no good… I didn’t… I didn’t know…”

“Oh Mac… It’s okay… Here, drink this.”

She gave him a can of purified water that he downed quickly. A tingling sensation stung his eyes, tears rolling down his cheeks. She noticed, evidently, and brushed them away with a scrap of cloth she pulled from her bag. She sat beside the mercenary, hand on his shoulder. MacCready didn’t know how to react to the tenderness she showed him, even less to the attention she showered onto him. He hung his head in shame, his drunkenness slowly fading away and revealing the feelings he had bottled up in his head. He was being a burden to his boss. He was a burden to her and her own problems. Gwendolyn tried to attract his eyes back to her by giving his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. Her other hand offered him a box of Dandy Boy Apples, sugary snack he accepted. She smiled at him, pleased that he was being cooperative. He shoveled sugary apples in his mouth, satisfaction spreading through him as his stomach filled itself with something other than alcohol.

“Mac, I want you to know that I appreciate you being here. I know I paid you and all that but you didn’t have to deal with Kellogg with me. You didn’t have to follow me here. You didn’t have to remain here either. You’re more than welcome to tag along, if that’s what you want to do. But for now, please try to sleep this off, okay? I’ll come back to get you later. I got some… Minutemen business to deal with now.”

She got up from the bed, pulling her soft and warm presence away from him. The cool air of December seeped through MacCready’s bones as she quietly opened the door to leave after dressing herself properly. He laid down, his consciousness drifting away from the depths of his tortured mind.

 

********************************

 

He woke up a couple of hours later, a pounding headache keeping him from sleeping any further. The cabin was empty except for his and Gwendolyn’s packs, ushering in a sense of dread in MacCready’s mind. His boss was nowhere to be seen in the little house or through the broken windows that adorned the walls. The young man got up quickly, immediately regretting his action as the world around him began to spin. Grabbing the desk near him, he let himself slowly get a grip on reality before stepping out into the village they had set up in the previous night. The sun shone brightly overhead, informing him that it must have been around noon and that he was terribly hungover. He pulled down the brim of his hat to try to fight against the pain stinging behind his eyes as the light blinded him. He took uncertain steps towards the main building of the village, strongly wishing it was where Gwendolyn had disappeared to.

As he approached the structure, he heard his boss’s laugh resonate within the metal walls that composed the building. Relief took hold in his heart at the sound, reassuring him that she was safe and _alive_. He pushed the entrance door open, barging into what looked like a common room filled with chairs and tables. As the door creaked open, Gwendolyn shot up from her seat, a huge toothy grin welcoming him into the room.

“Mac! How you feeling? Hungover, I presume?”

“Yeah,” he said weakly, “worst hangover of my life.”

“Well that’s what you get for drinking so much on the job!” Her crystalline laugh echoed once more, washing warmly over his tired body.

He noticed that another set of eyes observed him as he made his way towards his boss. Preston was sitting, arms crossed, at the same table where Gwendolyn had previously been seated. He seemed annoyed by the sudden interruption, not bothering to hide his animosity towards the mercenary. MacCready decided to ignore his presence, taking a seat next to Gwendolyn.

“Alright boys, settle down. No need to get at each other’s throat again,” she huffed.

“General, if you don’t mind, we need to get back to the matter at hand. I’m just not sure it’s something we should share with _him_.”

“Preston, don’t you start. He’s my friend, which gives him every right to hear what you have to say to me, your General.”

“Fine,” he abdicated, “We have a number of settlements in need of better access to water. I also think we should open a couple more trade routes between them.”

Garvey pointed at the crude map he had sprayed out on the table before MacCready’s arrival. It peaked the mercenary’s interest as he observed a number of red dots, which he assumed were the settlements they were talking about. A lot of locations he had known for either being abandoned or filled with raiders seemed to have been retaken by the Minutemen. The rate at which the faction was spreading impressed him.

“Send out a team from the Castle to take care of Jamaica Plain. Send word to Abernathy to prepare a caravan provisionner from the settlers we sent to him to bring concrete to both Tenpines Bluff and Taffington Boathouse. With the extra supplies, they should be able to construct more water pumps.”

“What about trade routes? I suggest we establish a new route from County Crossing to Northagen Beach.”

“I agree. Good plan. Also, get a new route set up from Finch Farm to Croup Manor. They should be able to sort themselves out from there.”

“Alright General. Anything else we should talk about?”

“Yes, Garvey, one more thing. You are to not bother me for a while. I’m meeting with Valentine at Sanctuary and I don’t need a small army behind me.”

“Okay, General. If you need me, I’ll be at the Castle.”

“Alright, see you later, Preston.”

Gwendolyn stood up, ready to leave her Colonel behind to get prepared for the journey ahead of them. Garvey had other plans, however, grabbing her hand before she got out of reach.

“Gwendolyn, take care of yourself. I know that finding your son is important but you can’t keep up this breakneck pace. You almost died just yesterday.”

Gwendolyn pulled her hand away, uncomfortable with the man’s outburst. MacCready decided to not interfere, prefering to simply observe what would happen next.

“I might not know what I’m doing or what will happen from now on, but I know how to handle myself.”

“I know you can, Gwen. I’m just worried, is all.”

Gwendolyn sighed deeply.

“I know, I know. I’m sorry Preston but I have to do this. I already lost ten years with my son… I can’t afford to let any more time pass me by. MacCready, let’s go.”

Both of them left the settlement behind within the hour.

 

********************************

 

After meeting Nick Valentine in Sanctuary, the trio set out for Goodneighbor where they would have to meet Doctor Amari. The weird cerebral implant that Gwendolyn had dug out of Kellogg’s head could prove useful in the hands of this doctor, as she specialized in memory and brain analysis. After three mostly uneventful days of travel, they had reached the town, to Mayor Hancock’s delight. The moment he heard of their return, he had pulled them into the Third Rail for a drug and alcohol fueled party to celebrate their success in eliminating Kellogg. After a single glass of bourbon, Gwendolyn had taken her leave from Hancock, stating that she still had much-needed work to accomplish. She still promised the ghoul to meet back up with him when her business at the Memory Den, Amari’s place of operation, had been completed. When they entered their next destination, MacCready was surprised by the familiarity with which Irma, the owner of the business, had welcomed Nick. From what Gwendolyn furtively explained to him, they had met up more than once to try to dig up more information about the personality that had been implanted in the synth. Turns out it was that of a pre-war police detective, explaining Valentine’s manner of speech and his affection for justice. His boss had still made it very clear to him that Nick was his own person despite having a long gone man’s memories as a blueprint. While he didn’t fully understand how he could be different from pre-war Nick, he didn’t wish to anger his employer so he simply nodded.

After some fiddling around, Doctor Amari had hooked the implant in Nick’s head, then Nick’s head to one of the memory loungers, the apparatus that allowed its user to review their own memories. Gwendolyn then entered the lounger, getting her own mind connected with Nick’s, which in turn let the both of them somehow navigate the memories present in Kellogg’s brain implant. MacCready didn’t understand any of the science behind the endeavour and was worried that it would just end up scrambling his boss’s own brain up. The delicate operation was completed after an hour had passed. Nick was the first one to come to, letting Amari remove the implant from his head. The synth walked out of the medical room to wait for Gwendolyn’s awakening in the main lobby of the Memory Den.

When Gwendolyn finally came to, her breathing became erratic, panic spreading on her face like wildfire. Gasps and withheld screams escaped her throat, prompting Doctor Amari to ready a dose of Med-X in case the woman got violent. His boss’s eyes spun around wildly, looking for something that didn’t exist until they landed on him. MacCready looked back at her, worried that she was losing her mind since she cried while observing him. A weak hand lifted itself towards him, begging him to grab onto it. As he held her, her breathing seemed to slow down, her tense muscles trying to relax themselves. It took at least five minutes for Gwendolyn to come back to her senses.

“Slow movements, okay? I don’t know what kind of side effects the procedure might have had. No one’s ever… done this before. How do you feel?”

“I have this… burning feeling inside my skull. It’s like it’s on fire…,” whispered Gwendolyn.

“That’s not surprising. All the synapses in your brain have just been pulled apart, connected to someone else, then pulled back together. I injected you with a large stimpack while I was pulling you out. That should ease things.” Amari paused, uncomfortable at the next question she had to ask. “Are you… ready to talk about what happened in there?”

“Teleportation… The Institute uses teleportation to get in and out… Virgil…. There’s this scientist in the Glowing Sea that escaped the Institute…” Gwendolyn was struggling to voice what was swirling in her head, grasping MacCready’s hand tighter with each detail she pushed out of her throat. “There was also… Kellogg’s life… The man who ruined my family… the man I killed…”

“He was a human being just like the rest of us, and he had reasons for being what he was, however cruel. How does that… make you feel?”

“It’s convinced me that I did the right thing. He was a rabid dog, and he needed to be put down. If left to his own devices, he would have kept murdering and destroying more families…”

“I… suppose I can’t fault you for that. The important thing is that we discovered the Institute’s greatest secret. Teleportation. And it seems we don’t have any options left…. You have to go after that scientist, Virgil. Through that sea of radioactive ash.”

“I’ll find a way… I always find a way.” Gwendolyn said, sternly.

“Good luck, and… be safe.”

Gwendolyn finally got out of the lounger, letting go of MacCready’s hand. She looked somber, the entire operation having taken its toll on both her mind and her motivation. The young man couldn’t blame her for such a reaction. According to Amari, while his boss was still under, Gwendolyn had to relive yet again the murder of her husband and the kidnapping of her child, but this time through the eyes of the atrocity’s perpetrator. MacCready wasn’t a stranger to the memory loungers as he remembered using Irma’s services to go through his own memories of his late wife, from their first meeting to her death, multiple times, in the early years of her disappearance. Whatever spare caps he had went into seeing his Lucy again back in the day. He was pulled out of his reverie when Gwendolyn asked him where Nick was, voice filled with concern. He informed her that he was upstairs waiting for her. Not bothering to pick up her pack, she sprinted out the door of the operating theater. Annoyed, MacCready set her heavy backpack on his right shoulder, struggling to stand straight under the weight of both of their bags.

When he made his way upstairs, he witnessed Gwendolyn pull her 10mm pistol at Nick Valentine, shaking in anger and panic. He let both of their bags slip to the floor, running to reach his boss as quickly as he could manage.

“Just gonna stare?” said the voice of Kellogg through Nick Valentine’s lips. “Don’t you wanna talk?”

“Kellogg? What… no you’re dead…”

“Heh. I was right. Should’ve killed you when you were on ice.”

Gwendolyn’s hands kept shaking as she placed the gun she was holding on Nick’s forehead. Paralyzed, MacCready could only watch the scene unfold, dread taking hold of his guts. He desperately hoped that Nick would come back, that Gwen wouldn’t shoot one of her best friends. The synth’s skeletal hand grabbed hold of the gun, disarming the woman in front of him in one swift motion.

“What’s wrong with you? It’s just me, Nick. Calm down will you, kid?”

The synth had come back to his regular self, seemingly unaware that Kellogg had somehow taken him over for a moment.

“Oh Nick… Nick I’m sorry… It’s Kellogg. His voice came from you… I panicked…,” Gwendolyn whimpered, her eyes becoming wet from tears threatening to escape.

“Gwen, it’s alright. Kellogg is gone.”

Nick’s soothing voice did wonders to calm down Gwendolyn as she threw herself at him, seeking his embrace. He held her to him, words of understanding and forgiveness flowing from his plastic lips. Since his boss was no longer about to make one of the biggest mistakes of her life, MacCready turned away, picking up their equipment. He didn’t want to disturb the other two’s intimacy despite the fire he felt in his heart. _Jealousy… Jealousy, seriously? Got nothing to be jealous of._

Eventually, the trio left the Memory Den behind. Valentine excused himself, stating that he had to return to his office in Diamond City, for one case or another. The remaining two made their way to the Old State House to meet up with the mayor, as they had promised him. The sun was setting on Goodneighbor when they entered the old building.

“How’d it go with the good doctor, Sunshine?”

“It was… horrible, John. I had to see his life, hear his voice speak of the reasons he was so fucked up to begin with… and then… I had to see _that_ again and…”

“I’m so sorry, Sunshine. I wish I could kill Kellogg for you all over again. Whatever you did to him was too soft for that monster.”

“Now, I have to find my way to and through the Glowing Sea. How am I going to find a scientist hellbent on not being found in there, let alone survive the radiation?”

“Well, dontcha think you should pay your dear paladin a visit? If someone can hook you up with a suit of Power Armor, it’s gotta be him. And I can come with ya in there, if you want. Not much radiation can do to me now, right?” Hancock playfully added.

“I’ll take you up on that, John. And yeah, you’re right. Only way I’m getting through this mess is by contacting the Brotherhood of Steel, I guess.”

MacCready had stayed silent until now, letting the other two discuss while he thought about what was about to happen. He was sure to be left behind on this little quest in the Glowing Sea since he was neither a synth nor a ghoul. Unless he magically found a hazmat suit or a Power Armor, there was no way he’d survive in there. The thought of letting Gwendolyn go in the irradiated zone without him didn’t sit right in his mind. He didn’t doubt that Hancock could protect her just fine, but he wanted to be near her. He wanted to stay by her side. Those feelings he had for his boss confused him yet made him long for more time with her. She certainly was a beautiful woman, quite his type actually, but there’s no way she’d feel anything but friendship for him, not after just losing a husband and a child.

“Hey MacCready, you listening?” Gwendolyn was waving her hand in front of his eyes.

“Y- yeah sure, boss, what’s up?”

“I won’t be able to bring you with me in the Glowing Sea but that doesn’t mean I don’t have a little project for you, if you’re willing.”

“What would that be?”

“I’d like you to head north to Outpost Zimonja. I’ve got a friend there that would need your help in dealing with some raiders. I’ll pay you of course.”

“Whatever you need, I’m all over it.”

“Excellent. When you’re done, I’d like you to escort that friend back to Goodneighbor. I need to speak with him after my little adventure in the butthole of the Commonwealth.”

MacCready and Hancock laughed at her childish humor.

“Sure, I’m on it boss.”

“So, you want the caps up front like before?”

“No need, we’ll see to that when you get back home safe.”

“Going soft on the pretty lady, MacCready,” snickered Hancock.

“Hancock, come on. I’m just trying to be a gentleman here.”

The trio laughed together, slapping their knees as they began to wheeze. The night was joyful for the three of them, exchanging stories and jokes over beers.

When MacCready awoke the next day, both Gwendolyn and Hancock were already gone, leaving behind a crude map for him to find his way to Outpost Zimonja, a short description of the person he was supposed to meet and a sealed envelope to give said individual.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man, university is really draining me this semester. It's a lot of fun tho but I haven't been able to write at all in a while. Fortunately, I still have... what 8 chapters already written tho they all need to still be corrected and fixed up. :x I'll still do my best to upload every Wednesday like promised! 
> 
> After posting the last chapter, I got a comment to correct a mistake I made about bullet diameters. I wish to thank that reader for pointing out my blunder! Thank you so much~ Seriously, readers, don't be scared to give criticism or comments! It's extremely useful!


	6. Raiders of Color

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where MacCready gets to meet a fan favorite

It took MacCready nearly four days of travel, with occasional breaks for some much needed shut-eye, to reach his destination. He had taken the liberty of resting at known Minutemen-affiliated settlements, stating he was on a mission for their General. To his surprise, he wasn’t only offered a bed but also food, medical items and even extra ammo. _These people must really either love or feel indebted to Gwendolyn_ , he thought.The latter was probably the truth in his eyes. He himself hated being in debt to anyone, going out of his way to repay any favor he had asked or been given. He walked near a farm going by the name of Tenpines Bluff when he was intercepted by a strange man. He was only wearing a white t-shirt and jeans, his eyes covered with dark sunglasses. The bald stranger was smiling, waving down MacCready. Remembering the description given to him on a piece of paper by his boss, he assumed that this person must be the friend he was supposed to meet, a man going by the name of Deacon.

“Howdy there! What’s a guy like you doing in these parts? Anything we can do for you?”

“I’m supposed to meet a certain Deacon here. I got a letter for him from my boss.”

The man immediately lost his sunny disposition, closing in on the mercenary, a finger to his lip.

“I don’t know who told you that name but I suggest that you turn around and walk away. Go back to whoever sent you this way. Tell ‘em that they better forget whatever they know or bad things are gonna start to happen, alright?”

“Don’t think so. I ain’t walking back empty handed. Was sent to help you then bring you to Goodneighbor. Just, take this thing,” MacCready added, handing him the sealed document he had to deliver.

After a moment, Deacon’s smile returned when he was done reading the letter that Gwendolyn had prepared.

“Ah! Gwendolyn sent you! Should have said it earlier, my friend. So, ready to clean up after some raiders?”

“Let’s just get this over with.”

Both men headed towards what seemed like a gigantic radio tower that MacCready would soon discover to be the centerpiece of Outpost Zimonja. The small sunken settlement had been taken over by raiders. Deacon informed him that their biggest enemy there would be the raider chieftain in place, a man by the name of Boomer. According to the bald man’s information, that raider would definitely be wearing an incomplete power armor suit that had been modified, raider style, and wielding a fatman. The news of such a weapon being in play did nothing to soothe MacCready’s nerves. Having to deal with what was essentially a mini nuke cannon would be very difficult since the outpost was encompassed in a crater of stone. One wrong shot and they would all be blown to bits.

Deacon and MacCready set up next to Zimonja, waiting for nightfall to begin their operation. The young man soon discovered that his bald partner was as silent and sneaky as his boss, even more so. He recognized the sneaking techniques that Gwendolyn used around him in the past, leading him to assume that she had probably learned the trade from Deacon. While that mystery was solved, another one came into existence. The instant MacCready wasn’t staring at Deacon, the other man had been able to perform a quick change that would put any magician to shame. The white shirt and blue pants had been entirely swapped for some road leathers, while the previously bald head had been covered with a pompadour black wig. The only remaining unchanged feature, apart from the man’s face, were the sunglasses that adorned his nose. Even when the sun finally set, Deacon refused to remove the dark shades. MacCready frowned deeply, wondering how his partner could see anything behind the tinted glass. The time for them to start their work was soon approaching, leaving no time for the young mercenary to think of the mystery that was this Deacon character.

“Okay, friend, listen up,” whispered Deacon. “We need to take down Boomer as soon as possible. I don’t exactly want to become a delicious portion of man bits. So your job, as the amazing sniper Gwendolyn sent, will be to pick off that lunatic in the cleanest way possible. In the meantime, I’ll go see if I can’t get in there, take some of them off all silent like.”

“Okay.”

“Not the talkative type? That’s okay, just stay on target. Gwen assured that you’d be able to pull it off, so I’m counting on you.”

Just like that, Deacon was gone like a shadow at dusk. The young man pulled his sniper rifle off his shoulder, inspecting the mechanism with the very limited light that Zimonja procured him. It was imperative that everything went smoothly as a simple misfire or a missed shot would end his and Deacon’s lives. When he was satisfied that the gun would fire appropriately, MacCready took an old silencer out of his pack. The device had been scratched and bumped multiple times in the past, leaving it in a poor state but, despite the external damage, it still worked just fine, serving its purpose. He secured it tightly to the muzzle of his rifle before lifting it onto a nearby rock. The mercenary went one last time over the details of his mission in his mind while searching his bag for extra ammunition boxes when he felt something he didn’t recognize at the bottom of his backpack. When he pulled it out, his jaw dropped as he inspected his find. It was a recon scope in perfect condition with a small cord hanging from it, a note dangling in the windy night. MacCready knew it could only come from one person. The note simply read “As promised” with a small heart drawn next to the words. He pressed the scope to his chest, warmth enveloping him. He wondered when she had slipped it in, where she had gotten it for him, why she even bothered after he made a fool of himself, getting drunk and having her clean up his mess. The thought of having her approval filled MacCready with pride, giving him more motivation than anything else ever had in the last years since Lucy’s death. Realizing that time was wasting away, he quickly installed the recon scope, replacing his old long scope on his equally old rifle. Looking through it, he could see signs of life in red, pointing out every single raider that was out in the open for him. It was also much more zoomed, making it possible for him to see his target’s features precisely. It was a beautiful piece of technology he didn’t deserve, but that he would definitely use to its full potential.

MacCready spotted Boomer in his signature power armor, confirming what he feared the most. The raider was wearing a helmet, fully covering his face in thick metal and other ballistic-resistant material. This would seriously complicate things for the young man, as it meant that he couldn’t simply dispatch the enemy with a clean headshot. It left him with two options: either wait for Boomer to be near anything that could easily explode if shot at—an unfortunately dangerous and uncertain play—or to somehow shoot the power armor’s fusion core battery, disabling the raider and potentially killing him. Option two was definitely the way to go, but it could put Deacon in danger. The more time MacCready waited to act, the more chances the raiders had to find and kill his boss’s friend. He set his sights on Boomer’s torso, following his movements for the opportunity to shoot and kill. The raider made a couple of rounds in between the shacks on stilts, observing his little kingdom. He had his fatman in hand, showing off his strength to all of his raider underlings. Finally, he turned his back to MacCready, giving him the only chance he had to disable their biggest threat. He took a deep breath and fired.

The bullet hit the fusion core as intended, sending Boomer to the ground in the following explosion. The raiders around him yelled, getting ready for combat. MacCready noticed that a certain number of them had disappeared from his vision, something he attributed to Deacon. Some of the stilts went up in flames, crashing down onto the raiders and Boomer’s body, either trapping or killing them instantly. The remaining men and women in the camp scrambled to procure weapons, roaring. The mercenary counted five enemies remaining through his scope, choosing his next target. _No, four? Three? Deacon sure is effective, I guess_. MacCready took down the two other raiders effortlessly as he was able to remain undetected through the entire confrontation. Deacon eventually reappeared, looking at the collapsed burning structure that had taken out most of their enemies. The mercenary made his way down into the remains of Outpost Zimonja, observing the burning remains of multiple raiders that had been caught in the fusion core’s explosion. The smell of charred flesh filled the air, making MacCready gag in disgust. Deacon seemed even more affected than him by the putrid odor, covering his mouth with a scarf he produced from his pocket.

“Good shot, very good shot. Well, that’s the end of that.”

“So, ready to go to Goodneighbor?”

“No, not yet, sorry. Gotta help get this place back in order before my people move in.”

“Well I ain’t paid for this. See ya.”

MacCready spun around to return to Tenpines Bluff, having no desire to start pulling out fuming bodies from a burning town. Before he could get very far, a noise had him turn his attention back to the wreckage he had caused. What he heard had been wood and metal shifting under the still blazing structure that had fallen over Boomer. Deacon noticed it too, immediately taking a step back. The presumably dead raider emerged, a combat shotgun at the ready. His flesh had melted off most of his body and scrape marks covered whatever good skin he had left. His clothes were covered in embers, slowly being eaten away. Before Deacon or MacCready could react, Boomer cracked the air with his gun, sending pellets towards the both of them. Having been damaged in the fire, the shotgun’s accuracy was greatly lowered, sending its payload a little off its mark. MacCready was the first to be hit, his left leg giving out under him. Deacon was hit next, debris from the fallen structure flying around when it was struck by the shotgun shell, finding its way into his back. Boomer started to slowly walk towards both men, gun still at the ready. Paralyzed by both fear and pain, MacCready could only see the burned man move towards them, helpless. The raider stepped next to Deacon, who had fallen to his knees, hands close to his boots. Boomer made the mistake of trying to grab Deacon by his hair, hand only retrieving the wig he had placed on his head. The bald man didn’t hesitate an instant, taking this chance to pull a switchblade from his boot and planting it just above Boomer’s right kneecap. Suffering and confusion took hold of the raider’s burned face as he fell, pushed by Deacon’s body to the ground. He lost his grip on the shotgun’s stock, letting it fall in a heap of dirt and blood. Gathering up whatever energy he had left, MacCready grabbed the dropped gun and pointed it at the raider. The moment Deacon rolled off of Boomer, the mercenary squeezed the shotgun’s trigger, ending Boomer’s pain once and for all.

“That could have gone a little better,” said Deacon, an amused look drawn on his face.

“Better? BETTER? My leg got fuc- freaking shot to bits!”

“Don’t be dramatic, it’s nothing that can’t be fixed with a couple stimpacks. It grazed you at best.”

MacCready struggled to get up, incapable of putting his entire weight on his injured leg.

“Okay, MacCready, okay. It’s not exactly a good wound, I’ll give you that.”

“Whatever. I’m going back.”

“Won’t hold it against you. But you should really stay.”

“Why’s that?”

“Gwendolyn wants us to do some investigating. Some new raiders that are not from around here have decided to come play in the Commonwealth. As much as I would _love_ a vacation right about now, she needs us to find out why they came here.”

“That’s bull.”

“Don’t take my word for it, read this”

Deacon tossed the letter that MacCready had been sent to deliver. The mercenary picked it up, unfolding the thin paper gently.

_Deacon, I sent MacCready, sniper extraordinaire, to help clean up Zimonja for you and the Railroad. In exchange, you will find out as much as you can on these new raiders that have been spotted as of late. They wear weird animal outfits and, from the reports I received from my Minutemen, they patrol around Arcjet Systems. Just find out where they’re from and what they’re doing here. MacCready will be my eyes and ears in this operation. So, you know what that means, Deacon. No funny business._

_Love, Gwen_

“Oh great. Just what I needed. She’s gonna owe me big time for this”, huffed MacCready.

 

********************************

 

The unlikely pair set out the next day for Arcjet Systems, a derelict aerospace-related installation near Cambridge. On their first day of travel, Deacon had led them to a settlement constructed within a pre-war drive-in theater, subsequently named Starlight Drive-in. It was another bustling little community mainly concentrated on trade that had been built by the Minutemen. Multiple little shacks contained different storefronts, offering anything a weary traveller could ever need. On their second day of travels, they were stopped in their endeavor by an altercation between two raider groups that took place not far from the ghoul-infested Super Duper Mart.

“Bingo. Colorful raiders, don’t you think?”

“It’s just creepy,” answered MacCready, disapproval visible on his tired features.

“I give it ten points for creativity. Now let’s see… Where are you from, you weirdos?”

MacCready pulled out his binoculars to observe the scene while both men settled into some tall grass. The raiders they were investigating were wearing tribal looking bright red armor over ragged clothes. The armor pieces they wore had stuffed animals latched onto them, giving the group a funny appearance. The leader of the raiders had a mask covering his entire face made of wood and sporting antlers. The other men there all wore bright pink and yellow beanies.

Deacon pointed out that the two groups were probably arguing over some settlers that had been captured. Two terrified women were tied up like sausages, crying helplessly while the raiders decided on their fate.

“We won’t hesitate to kill all of you if you don’t leave right now. Those are our prey!” exclaimed the masked raider.

“The bitches are ours, you freaks.”

“Ya heard that boys? Let’s hunt!”

The colorful men opened fire upon the other raiders with surprising accuracy, taking down most of them. The women began to scream in fright as bullets whizzed by them. Deacon got up, holding a strange-looking gun that MacCready had never seen before. It was steaming, cranking noises escaping the metallic barrel. A loud whistle was heard when the gun fired a large metal spike towards the raiders. It embedded itself in the arm of the masked raider, tearing it clean off his torso. The violence of the shot both horrified and fascinated MacCready. He himself pulled out his sniper rifle to pick out the remaining raiders.

When the dust the fight had disturbed returned back to the dirt, Deacon ran towards the tied women.

“Are you alright, ladies?”

“Y-yes. Thank you, thank you…”

“Do you know where the raiders wanted to take you both?”

The youngest of the two women spoke up after being freed from her bonds.

“They said something about… I don’t know. Nuka something.”

“Nuka-world, I think. I never heard of such a place,” added the other woman.

“Do you both have somewhere to go, now?” enquired Deacon.

“No, they burned… they burned our house… Oh God…”

“Let us take you to Starlight. They’ll be able to take care of you there, what do you say?”

“Thank you…”

Both women held each other close while Deacon and MacCready investigated the bodies of the raiders. The mercenary was more interested in picking off whatever ammunition and caps the corpses might be hiding while the bald man looked for more indications as to what Nuka-World could be. Eventually, the little group made their way back to the drive-in cinema, letting the settlers see to the well-being of the traumatized women they had in tow.

“That was strange,” uttered Deacon when both men were out of earshot from the rest of the busy town. “Like we didn’t have enough on our plate with the Institute, now we also have to dance around with weird animal raiders. The Commonwealth sure doesn’t disappoint.”

“I just hope Gwendolyn doesn’t plan on dealing with them.”

“Oh come on MacCready. You should know her better than that by now. Of course she’ll put her grubby paws all over that. She just won’t stop fighting the whole world, you know.”

“Yeah, I know… She’ll just end up dead in a ditch at this rate.”

“You’re probably right, but that’s where we come in. Gotta protect our little hero.”

MacCready didn’t answer. Gwendolyn surely was a hero, but at what cost? She was taking on the problems of everyone, going on the trail of the Institute all the way to no man’s land in her righteous crusade. Her will came from wanting to save her son, but she still went out of her way to help others even if it slowed down her quest. The young man couldn’t help but admire his boss for her selflessness. Reality still dictated that, in this wasteland, such efforts would definitely result in her downfall and, as much as he hated to admit it, MacCready wasn’t ready to let her die on him. He found in her a friend, a person that accepted his faults and didn’t get on his case over everything. He definitely didn’t want to lose another person he cared about again.

The night was long for the mercenary, his mind plagued by fears of loss and solitude. He wanted to leave for Goodneighbor as soon as possible in hopes of finding Gwendolyn and Hancock back from the Glowing Sea, alive and well. The morning simply couldn’t come fast enough at this point. Deacon had tried to get information about Gwendolyn’s plans from MacCready, tidbits of knowledge he jealously guarded for both his and his boss’s sake. She might have thought of Deacon as a friend, but he sure didn’t trust the man. Knowing he was involved with the Railroad concerned him enough to avoid prolonged conversation with the bald spy. From what he had gathered from the diverse holotapes the organisation often left behind in Goodneighbor and rumors circulating about them, he understood that they were a group of spies working towards helping synths escape the Commonwealth. He didn’t understand why they would go to such lengths for synths of all things. Artificial or not, the synths would always be a danger to others since they could be controlled by the Institute to do their dirty work. Informants hiding in plain sight, ready to kidnap or attack anyone going against the shadowy institution. It was a gamble that MacCready had no interest in partaking in.

The sun finally appeared over the horizon, indicating that both men would be departing from Starlight Drive-in soon enough. While they were both getting ready, the women from before came to thank them once more, offering caps to both men. Deacon insisted on refusing the money, prompting MacCready to argue with him afterwards. He might not need the caps but the mercenary sure did. A heated conversation followed about how accepting money from settlers would look bad for the General if anyone ever caught wind that they were doing this under her orders. Rebuked and irritated, MacCready refused to partake in Deacon’s small talk afterwards on their way to Goodneighbor.

 

********************************

 

They both stayed mostly silent during the three days of travel it took them to make it back to Goodneighbor. To MacCready’s dismay, neither Gwendolyn nor Hancock had been seen in town. He decided to wait for his employer in the Old State House, chain smoking as many cigarettes as he could find. Anxious thoughts roared in his mind as he imagined what could have happened to his friends. In the meantime, Deacon had donned a drifter costume, hanging about in the streets of the town. As the days went by, the mercenary’s doubts and fears would only mount, making him restless. Eventually, he ended up walking aimlessly through the dirty streets of Goodneighbor, unable to calm his mind or catch any sleep. As much as he hated to think of the possibility, he had to think about what he’d do if Hancock and Gwendolyn never came back. What would he do if they had died? He couldn’t stay in Goodneighbor, could he? His thoughts were interrupted by a raspy yet soothing voice calling out to him. Daisy, the ghoul that ran Goodneighbor’s general store, beckoned him to come over to her counter.

“Hey MacCready, are you alright?”

“I don’t know Daisy. I don’t know what to do.”

“Does it have to do with the business with the Glowing Sea?”

“How did you hear about that?”

“Words spread fast in Goodneighbor, MacCready. You should know that already.”

“Okay okay. Yeah. I’m just worried.”

“They’ll come back, I’m sure of it. Gwendolyn isn’t one to give up, you know. She did clean out the entire Boston Library for me. Whole place was full of Super Mutants you know.”

“It’s not the same, Daisy. We… I don’t even know what’s in there. What if they got picked out by a deathclaw first thing in the morning?”

“It’s no use worrying about the unknown. All we can do is believe in them. Believe they’ll be safe and come back to us in one piece.”

Daisy’s black irises looked into his blue eyes with insistence, trying to instill as much hope and belief into his heart as she could. The ghoul was a kind woman that had lived for over two hundred years by now. She came from before the war that destroyed the whole world, and it showed through her actions and her manners. Another relic from a time long gone; out of place yet needed in this ruined land. She made him think of Gwendolyn and how similar their philosophies seemed to be. MacCready was then reminded of what Kellogg had said back in Fort Hagen. He had said that his boss had been around for as much time as any pre-war ghoul. His mind latched onto the word frozen. He had called Gwendolyn a frozen woman. It couldn’t be true, could it? She couldn’t have been frozen for this entire time, safe from the war and the radiation and the suffering of the world, only to wake up to _this_ Commonwealth? The thought alone made him uncomfortable.

The main gate of Goodneighbor slammed open to reveal a figure in a slightly damaged power armor carrying a person in its arms. Mayor Hancock was nestled in the mechanical grasp, unconscious. MacCready sprung into action, running towards who he assumed to be Gwendolyn, relief and terror ebbing in his mind at the prospect that they were back but that Hancock might be dead. The stranger in power armor started a sprint, going into the alley leading to the main street of Goodneighbor, bypassing MacCready altogether. He followed, running as well, until the power armor disappeared into the Memory Den.

When he entered, he saw Doctor Amari scrambling to help bring Hancock down the steps that lead to her laboratory. The mayor didn’t look injured except for a small puncture wound in his upper torso. It seemed mostly closed up, as if the injury was fairly old at this point, maybe from a week ago or so. The figure in power armor still didn’t extract itself from the suit, leaving MacCready to wonder if it actually was Gwendolyn in there. He felt like she would have spoken to him by now, especially considering the state Hancock was in.

A male voice he recognized came from the power suit.

“Gwendolyn said he went into shock for a couple of days after a radscorpion attack.”

“It must be the poison. Do you know how long he’s been in this unconscious state, after the initial shock?”

“This _ghoul_ has been out for two hours.”

“We’re cutting it close, but I believe he’ll be alright. I’ll administer the antivenom now.”

“Outstanding.”

The man finally pulled his helmet off, revealing the tired visage of Paladin Danse.


	7. The Prydwen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where MacCready takes a ride in a blimp, an Elder is met and wishes come true.

After receiving the precious radscorpion antivenom, Hancock was able to get back to his casual attitude quickly. Doctor Amari tried as best she could to keep the ghoul mayor in check but he insisted on going after Paladin Danse. Gwendolyn was apparently currently in his care, which brought relief to MacCready. Against all odds, she had survived the deadliest region of the Commonwealth with major injuries and advanced radiation poisoning. The paladin had informed him that they were ambushed by a deathclaw on the edge of the radioactive area and that, during the battle, her power armor’s air intake had been severed, leading to Gwendolyn being exposed to unfathomable amounts of radiation before she was found by the Brotherhood of Steel team that the paladin had assembled and led. Gwendolyn had been made into a knight of the Brotherhood, becoming a valuable asset to whoever controlled that fanatical army. At least, if she’s in their care, she would receive the best treatments available. Still, MacCready decided to tail Paladin Danse with Hancock, hoping to see his boss. In the following day, the two had followed Danse all the way to the Cambridge Police Station, where the paladin would board a vertibird to return to the Brotherhood’s flying fortress.

“You need to find a way to board that ‘bird, MacCready. Not that I think they would do much to her, but you can never know how much those metal fanatics could try to brainwash her or, I dunno, interrogate her. Last time I saw her, she was on the verge of death after saving my sorry ass from a gigantic deathclaw. Fuck, I want to go there myself…”

“It’s gonna be alright, mayor. I’ll… I’ll find a way.”

“Man, that Gwen is one insane motherfucker, I swear. Took down a deathclaw in a destroyed power armor with not much else but a 10mm pistol and a goddamn sword. I’ve never seen someone fight like she does.”

“That totally sounds like her,” chuckled MacCready, getting ready to enter Brotherhood territory.

“Alright, kid, go. Bring the mad cat back to us.”

“Will do, Hancock.”

The mercenary left the company of John Hancock, purposefully walking into a den of steel wolves ready to rip apart whatever gets in their way. His first order of business would be to make contact with Paladin Danse since he would recognize him and therefore not attack immediately. He made his way into the barricaded compound, trying to look as non-threatening as possible. To his surprise, none of the Brotherhood soldiers posted on the barricade even looked his way, completely disinterested in the young man. The real trouble started when he made his way up the steps to the main doors of the building.

“You can’t go there, civilian,” interjected a soldier in power armor.

“Well, uhm, I just need to speak to Paladin Danse. He’s in there right?”

“The paladin surely has nothing to do with you. I suggest you leave before we take action.”

“Woah, relax, he knows me. Saved a good friend of mine and I just want to ask how she’s doing.”

“You’re affiliated to Knight Clark?”

“Uhm, sure,” said MacCready, uncertain if that was actually Gwendolyn or not. He had only heard her last name maybe once before.

“Alright, go ahead, but we’ll be watching you closely.”

“Yeah, thanks,” huffed MacCready, pushing open the door to the police station.“Hey, Danse? We need to talk.”

A Brotherhood knight he had not seen before stepped in the lobby of the station, laser pistol at the ready.

“Who let you in, scum? I ought to teach you some manners.”

“Easy, easy. Just looking for your paladin, nothing else.”

“Rhys, relax, I know him.” Scribe Haylen stepped in front of the armed man.

“You’re just going to let this… this trash come in here as he pleases?”

“Just go do something else, big guy, I got this.” Haylen ushed the knight into another room. It took some convincing, but Knight Rhys finally abdicated.

“So, MacCready, right? You look well. What do you need from Paladin Danse?”

“I need to talk to him. It’s urgent.”

“Really? Does it have to do with Gwen? She’s not here you know.”

“Yeah uhm, about that. I need him to take me to her. Now would be a good time.”

“You’re just asking the impossible, but alright. I’ll go get him; take a seat.”

MacCready sat in a chair near the counter that separated the lobby in half, hoping he wasn’t going to be executed or something because he was in the station. He heard somewhat of a confrontation, loud voices echoing in the old building. As much of a bad omen as it was, MacCready decided to stay put, willing to do everything he could to gain the right to see his boss again. He had so many things left to ask her and even more things to tell her. During their time apart, he had decided to confide in her, tell her his plan to deal with the Gunners who, through the last couple weeks, had kept unusually low profiles. If anybody in the Commonwealth would be kind enough to listen to him, it was her. He wanted to trust her, something that never came cheap and could always lead to extortion or even death in the wrong hands. _Maybe I can trust her with Winlock and Barnes… I can probably trust her with my real reason to be in the Commonwealth. Who knows, maybe I’ll actually be able to do something right for once in my life. Maybe I could actually save Duncan…_

His thoughts were cut short by loud steps headed his way, sounds he attributed to Paladin Danse since he barely ever left his power armor. An irritated hulk of a man faced the mercenary, one hand on a hip, the other fingering the holster of his laser rifle.

“What are you doing here?”

“I have to see Gwendolyn as soon as possible and I know you can take me to her.”

“I refuse. Dismissed.” _You’re not getting rid of me that easily._

“You don’t get it, tin can. It’s really urgent.”

Danse rolled his eyes, a frustrated wave crashing over him.

“She’s safe aboard the Prydwen. That’s all I can do for you.”

“Ain’t good enough. Get me to her. It’s... “ MacCready stammered, “it’s Minutemen business that just can’t wait any longer.”

“Regardless of whatever _business_ this is, she won’t be able to aid you. She’s bedridden and has yet to come to.”

“Do the words _dangerous raider uprising_ do anything for you, metal man? I don’t mind waiting, but it needs to be where she is. Let’s get going.”

Trying to put an end to the meandering dead-end negotiation, MacCready got to his feet, ready to depart whichever way the vertibird would be. The paladin stepped in front of him, towering over the young man in an intimidating pose.

“No civilian is allowed aboard any Brotherhood vertibird, let alone the Prydwen. I’m sorry, but there are no possible exceptions.”

“Gwen is the General of the Minutemen. She needs to take a decision about this immediately. And I swear, if you don’t let me deliver this message, she will go ballistic. You know her, right? So yeah, you know I’m right about this.”

The paladin lost his composure as he imagined an enraged Gwendolyn wrecking havoc on the Brotherhood fortress, or at least that’s what MacCready thought. Danse had completely lost his intimidating aura which was replaced by an air of unease. _Oh just give in and let me go. You really don’t want to have an angry Gwen after you… Be smart, Danse!_ His interlocutor kept shifting his weight from one leg to the other, visibly uncomfortable.

“Alright. I’ll radio the Prydwen to get confirmation that you may come aboard.”

MacCready couldn’t help but fistpump at the news. Not only had he been able to stand up to the Brotherhood, he also stood up to Paladin Danse of all people. The paladin excused himself, sighing at the childish gesture. While the young man was ecstatic with his victory over the almighty soldier of steel, the fact of the matter remained. He was throwing himself into danger over something as trivial as simply checking up on some woman he had done business with. The minutes went by slowly, scenarios of impending doom swirling in his troubled mind.

Danse reappeared in the lobby of the police station, his large pack dangling from his back.

“We’re cleared for take-off. Follow me.”

 

********************************

 

The trip in the vertibird had not been a pleasant experience for MacCready, not at all. The flying vehicle was far from stable, leaving the mercenary to clutch both his mouth and the seat he was on, waves of nausea rippling through him. The worst part of the experience, however, had been the docking to the gigantic blimp the Brotherhood had stationed above the remains of the Boston Airport. A mechanical arm had violently gripped the vertibird by its main propeller, jerking the entire crew upwards. The moment MacCready was able to find his footing on the metallic boardwalk of the Prydwen, the contents of his stomach were menacingly close to be hurled overboard. A serious-looking man stepped towards Paladin Danse, both arms tucked neatly in the small of his back.

“Lancer-Captain Kells. Paladin Danse, reporting in as ordered, sir,” started off the paladin.

“This is the Minutemen envoy?” pointed the lancer-captain with disdain.

“Yes, sir. He’ll only stay until Knight Clark has been able to confirm whatever business they have to conclude. Permission to mount aboard, sir?”

“Permission granted, paladin. Please escort this… _civilian_ to the infirmary. Elder Maxson asked that you report to him soon.”

“Ad Victoriam”

“Ad Victoriam, paladin.”

Both men saluted with a fist to their heart, a gesture MacCready was familiar with. The Brotherhood of Steel always appreciated decorum and tradition, sticking to dead languages and salutes reminiscent of the world before the war. Even their power armors were taken among the relics of the pre-war era. These soldiers had somehow been able to revive a lot of lost technologies, even bring back the power of flight to their army. Of course, as a conglomerate of fanatics, that technology was hidden, left out of the lives of those who would need it most. MacCready often wondered if the Brotherhood had the medical knowhow to save his son. He dreaded their appearance in the Commonwealth as they could raid whatever medical facility supposedly held the only drug that could cure Duncan, and here he was, face to face with their higher-ups. Paladin Danse escorted the young man through the blimp, leading him down a ladder into an open corridor. The metallic beast was bustling with soldiers and scribes working tirelessly. Despite their workload, every single person they passed by took the time to salute or greet Danse, even with no answer from the man. The paladin stayed silent, simply dragging MacCready towards a small room on the left of the corridor. It had two unoccupied cots, a zone completely shielded by dividers and a small desk at which a doctor was sitting.

“Knight-Captain Cade. How is she doing?” Danse made no effort to hide his concern for Gwendolyn.

“Knight Clark’s condition is stable. She has not regained consciousness, yet her radiation levels are much lower already. There’s simply nothing wrong with her.”

“That is concerning…,” Danse turned towards MacCready. “This messenger will stay by Clark’s side for now. I will personally attend to this civilian as to avoid any issues.”

“Well, I guess that’s alright, paladin. Would you like me to move the dividers to the entryway? I can’t really give you more privacy than that.”

“I appreciate it, Cade. Thank you. If you have any work to do elsewhere, please, don’t force yourself to stay here for our sakes. I’ll keep watch over Knight Clark and call for you if anything changes.”

“Alright, I’ll be in the mess hall then.”

The doctor, Knight-Captain Cade, left both men in the closed infirmary to tend to Gwendolyn. MacCready was shocked at her appearance. Her skin had lost its light tan, replaced by a greyish shade. Her cheeks dug into her face, revealing the angular shape of her skull. Dark circles swallowed her closed eyelids, giving the poor woman the appearance of a corpse. Danse decided to hop out of his power armor to be able to sit next to Gwendolyn’s cot. His strong, large shoulders and chiseled physique under a tight orange flight suit clashed strongly next to MacCready’s unrecognizable boss. The paladin’s strong hand gently held her right wrist, calculating her pulse. The mercenary had not yet dared approach, frozen by the visions of death incarnate emanating from Gwendolyn. Eventually, Danse asked that he come closer, pointing him towards another chair on the left side of the cot.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t avoid this,” whispered Danse, pain in his voice.

“Hancock should have done a better job.”

“We should have never trusted that _ghoul_ with her safety in the first place. It was foolish.”

“They should never have gone in there in the first place.”

“Perhaps. Nevertheless, what’s done is done and here she lies. I should have stopped her, made her see reason. It’s my fault.”

“Gwen would have gone in there with or without your help, you know. She ain’t one to give up.”

“I know.”

The paladin let go of the pale wrist to hold his head in both hands instead. A deep sigh escaped the other man’s lips as he hung his shoulders as low as humanly possible. The room fell silent except for the slow murmur of the Prydwen’s engines.

“What happens if… if she doesn’t wake up?” inquired MacCready.

“I dare not imagine.”

“Me neither.”

Silence reigned supreme once more. Hours passed, slowly letting despair settle in both men’s souls. They refused to talk anymore than they already had, instead focusing on one thing or another. MacCready had his eyes set on the rise and fall of Gwendolyn’s chest, steady rhythm that confirmed she was actually still alive. Temptation to hold her hand climbed in his mind. Could his presence, his touch even, bring her back from the brink? One of the dividers covering the entrance to the infirmary slowly shifted to the side, revealing a scarred and bearded man. The icy blue eyes of the intruder first placed themselves on the inert body of Gwendolyn before reaching out to Danse’s.

“How is she?” asked the newcomer.

“Elder Maxson? You didn’t have to-”

“Of course I had to. I am responsible for the well-being of all my fellow brothers and sisters, especially those under my command. So, how is she?”

“Still unconscious. Rads finally reached zero with this last Radaway IV. Pulse is good and steady as well. Knight-Captain Cade seemed hopeful that she will eventually recover.”

“Good. Please advise me when she wakes up, will you, paladin?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And this is?” the Elder lifted his chin towards MacCready.

“The Minutemen envoy I radioed you in about. He’s also a close friend of Knight Clark, so I thought it best he stay by her side in her time of need.”

“Your name?” asked Elder Maxson.

“MacCready. I guess you’re the one to thank for letting me up here.”

“Yes.”

“Elder Maxson, sir, don’t let us keep you,” answered Danse.

“Good night to you two. Please make sure she’s well cared for.”

The bearded man left, replacing the divider as neatly as possible in deft movements. Danse looked at Gwendolyn’s ashen face with a sad smile.

“I’ll go get us something at the mess hall. Knight-Captain Cade should probably check on Gwendolyn as well. Can I trust you to look after her?” vocalized the paladin.

“Yeah. Won’t leave her side.”

“Outstanding.”

MacCready was left with his unconscious boss in the infirmary. In this private moment, the young man decided to finally take hold of Gwendolyn’s hand. Her skin was soft and warm on his calloused fingers. He remembered that she normally wore gloves when she was out in the Commonwealth, which explained the pristine state of her fingers. The warmth of her skin gave him assurance that she surely would come to. _She’s not dead. She’s here._ MacCready gently traced circles on the back of her hand with his thumb, basking in the smooth sensation of his skin against hers.

“Please… come back, Gwen,” he gently murmured. “Wake up…”

The partition shifted again, announcing the return of Paladin Danse. He held two steaming bowls of noodles which he placed on a cart near his chair. Knight-Captain Cade followed suit, walking towards the cot. He grabbed the chart that hung from the bed’s metal frame to take notes of his new observations. He tested Gwendolyn’s pulse and examined her pupils with a small light. Her breathing came next, followed by her temperature and rad levels. The doctor nodded at the paladin, concluding his evaluation. After he had left, Danse handed one of the bowls to MacCready before grabbing his own. The two ate in silence while stealing glances at the woman on the hospital bed in between them.

More time passed before a sound made both men jump in their seats. A sigh escaped from Gwendolyn’s lips, her breathing increasing ever so slightly. Danse leapt out of the infirmary to fetch Cade while MacCready held his own breath. More soft sighs came from his boss, her fingers slowly curling in the fabric that covered her. Her eyelids opened before immediately falling back down. _Come on Gwen, you can do it. Wake up._ Knight-Captain Cade ran into the infirmary, Paladin Danse in tow.

“Knight Clark, Gwendolyn, can you hear me?” asked the doctor. No answer. “Gwendolyn, you have to wake up now. Try to open your eyes.” A soft, pained moan. “That’s it, try again.”

A hoarse voice came from the cot.

“Where…”

“It’s okay Gwendolyn, you’re safe,” exclaimed Danse.

“Wh- what…”

“You’re aboard the Prydwen, Knight Clark,” answered Cade. “Paladin Danse brought you back here after finding you at the edge of the Glowing Sea.”

“John…”

“It’s okay boss, he’s fine. Butthurt about you saving him, but he’s good,” playfully confirmed MacCready.

“Mac..?”

“Yeah it’s me. I’m here.”

Gwendolyn opened her eyes, taking deep breaths as her consciousness took hold of her body once more. She sluggishly lifted her arm towards Paladin Danse.

“Thanks for… John.”

“Don’t mention it. How are you feeling?”

“Like shit… Fuck deathclaws.”

“Yeah that’s our Gwen alright,” giggled MacCready.

“We have some tests to perform, Knight Clark. I need the both of you to leave for now. You may come back as soon as they are done.” sternly said Knight-Captain Cade.

“Thank you, Cade. Let’s go, we have to report to Elder Maxson,” invited Danse.

The mercenary and the paladin left Gwendolyn behind despite her gravelly protests. They walked towards the metallic ladder they had taken to access the main deck of the Prydwen. Paladin Danse knocked on the door at the end of the corridor, awaiting an answer before entering. After a moment, the hatch swung open, revealing Elder Maxson on the other side.

“Elder, sir. Knight Clark has woken up,” announced Danse.

“Excellent. When she is discharged, please bring her to me. I’ll be waiting for her report.”

“Yes, sir. Anything else I can do for you in the meantime?”

“As a matter of fact, yes. I’d like to confirm something you wrote in your report on the rescue operation that brought Knight Clark back to us. You indicated witnessing her in the company of a ghoul. Should I be concerned?”

“No sir. Knight Clark has integrated our ideals easily. I don’t think her association with a ghoul is to be worrisome. While I agree that she should not coerce with such creatures, I believe- ”

“Hey, Hancock isn’t some kind of monster,” loudly interrupted MacCready.

Danse glared at him. “Do not speak up unless asked to, civilian.”

“Please see to Knight Clark’s wellbeing. Dismissed.”

“I will, sir,” saluted Paladin Danse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The horrible freezing temperatures up here in Canada have become a huge challenge for my friends and I. We have almost no motivation to actually get out of bed and try our luck on the pure ice that are the sidewalks to go to school. It's very demoralizing, to say the least! I hope that, wherever you are, if you're dealing with such temperatures, that you are safe and careful about it! Take care of yourselves~


	8. Debts and Regrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where Danse has an episode and MacCready snaps.

After a grueling three days of interrogations, medical check ups, menial tasks and general boredom, Gwendolyn was finally given permission to leave the Prydwen. The medical staff on board had given their all in terms of care and attention to MacCready’s boss, much to her dismay as she hated being the center of attention. Her body had regained most of its colour and muscle mass but she was still under the weight she had before entering the Glowing Sea. She had to get her vault suit slightly adjusted to fit her new slimmer, less curvaceous body. To her surprise, Paladin Danse had risen to the task, showing himself to be extremely handy with needlework. Before making her first steps in the not-so-fresh air of the Commonwealth, she had met up with Elder Maxson in his private quarters by her lonesome. Talks of diplomacy and cooperation between the Minutemen and the Brotherhood of Steel were in their infancy, giving hope to MacCready that the Brotherhood might be better than he once thought. If anyone could reform those bigoted fanatics, it was his boss with her old world views and ideals. In the meantime, Paladin Danse had tried to instill some good old Brotherhood lessons into MacCready, speaking of honor, safeguarding and even of the military prowess of their leader. The Elder was actually younger than himself, a twenty-year-old man that had been forged and molded into the perfect Brotherhood soldier from his childhood to his rise to power. His appearance could fool anyone as he looked like a grizzled veteran with his full beard and deep scar covering the right side of his face. When Gwendolyn finally emerged, both faction leaders looked pleased, the Elder even exhibiting levels of camaraderie you would never expect from him. The visible shock in Danse’s eyes told the rest of the story, implying he’d never seen his leader _happy_ , or more accurately, not frowning at the military challenges ahead of them. _Gwendolyn must have buttered him up good with her charms, I’d say._ _She's about as good a charmer as Hancock. Dangerously charming._ To the trio’s surprise, Elder Maxson ordered Paladin Danse to accompany Gwendolyn in her endeavors, both to nurture the bud of Brotherhood ideology that he clearly thought had taken root in the woman’s heart as well as to keep her safe. As such, the paladin left the floating fortress with Gwendolyn and MacCready. The three of them boarded a vertibird that flew them all the way to Goodneighbor, due to Paladin Danse’s insistence. He had made sure that the lancer piloting the ‘bird would be taking them wherever Gwendolyn desired, using his rank as a pressure point.

“Ugh. Nothing says welcome like the stench of urine-soaked garbage.”

“Careful there, Mac! Wouldn’t want to insult the good mayor, right?” giggled Gwendolyn in response. Danse decided to stay silent while still sporting a look of disgust.

Gwendolyn made a beeline to a drifter aimlessly walking around, a bald man wearing sunglasses.

“Dee! Long time no see!”

“Gwen? That really you? You get your little pet to fetch me then you don’t show for however long it has been? It’s unladylike to leave me hanging like that.”

“Gwendolyn was hospitalized,” sternly answered Danse.

“Really? Is the tin can right?”

“Yeah… the Glowing Sea isn’t exactly hospitable.”

“Just glad to have you back, Gwen. It’s always quiet without you around these parts.” Deacon smiled while gripping Gwendolyn’s extended hand.

MacCready had stayed silent, opting to instead press his back against a nearby building, a lit cigarette lazily protruding from his lips. He felt out of place, an intruder in Gwendolyn’s private life. She associated with such colourful and different characters that it gave the mercenary a headache. She was casually discussing with two men from opposing factions with no hesitation or apprehension. To him, she was akin to glue, the centerpiece of a band of freaks and misfits that would normally kill each other if it wasn’t for her presence and leadership. He was reminded of how a fanatical Brotherhood of Steel soldier was made to carry and rescue a ghoul of all people simply because she had asked him to. _Gwen is a hell of a leader, whether she likes it or not._ _Speak of the devil…_ His boss approached him, having dismissed Deacon after discussing the information he had gathered with the mercenary on the strange raiders they had apprehended. Her paladin followed, uneasiness drawn on his chiseled face.

“So, MacCready, wanna get the dream team back together?”

“Sure, boss, you keep leading and I’ll follow you. That was the deal, right?”

“You sure know how to please a gal, sweet cheeks. How about we visit Hancock? I know he ended up just fine after his brush with death at the stinger of a radscorpion, but I still want to make sure, you know.” _Sweet cheeks? That’s the WORST nickname I ever got. This is so embarrassing._

“He’s probably getting high in the State House. After you, hotshot.”

“Is it really wise to associate with a non-human like this, Knight?” finally interjected Danse. Her answer was violently thrown at the paladin’s face.

“Call him or _any_ other ghoul a non-human again, Danse, and I’ll make you eat your goddamn Power armor. I don’t care if you’re higher up in the Brotherhood than me but you _will_ play by my rules when you’re with me, is that clear?” Gwendolyn spat venomously at her companion.

Danse sighed after a moment of reflection. “Understood.”

The unlikely trio entered the Old State House, prompting a commotion in the centuries-old building. Hancock’s guards immediately took arms, pointing them at the Brotherhood of Steel paladin. Gwendolyn intervened, bravely posting her frail body in front of the armed guards, even grasping the barrel of a shotgun that was dangerously close to her face. The disturbance had gotten Hancock out of his office, a grin on his cadaverous mug.

“Holy hell, cats really do have nine lives, don’t they! Happy to see you’re still in one piece, Sunshine.”

“Fuck, John, you gave me such a scare back there. How’s my king of the zombies faring?”

“Not too bad. That vacation in the Glowing Sea did wonders for my skin. Big hit with the ladies. Get up to my office so we can chat.”

Gwendolyn barely waited for Hancock to finish his sentence that she was already sprinting up the spiral staircase leading to her friend. She jumped in the ghoul’s arms with a radiant smile illuminating the dim atmosphere, almost getting him to topple to the ground. MacCready looked over at Paladin Danse to observe the look of disgust on the soldier’s face.

“Better start getting used to our Gwen, metal man. She clearly doesn’t care for your whole “non-human” crap.”

Danse didn’t answer MacCready’s snide comment, preferring to pass by the young man to start climbing the stairs leading to Gwendolyn. _Never thought anyone in the Brotherhood would be so docile. This is gonna be fun._ In Hancock’s office, the ghoul and his boss were already engaged in an animated discussion about the Prydwen, both of them sitting next to the other on an old red couch. The paladin had opted for a strategic position, his back to a wall, eyeing the hallway. MacCready decided to let himself relax in the sofa facing his boss, a beer he had taken from Hancock’s stash in hand. The four of them remained in the State House until nightfall, drinking and, in Hancock’s case, inhaling jet, all while Danse uncomfortably stayed on his guard.

When they retreated to Hotel Rexford for the night, Gwendolyn was only able to obtain two rooms for the three of them. To MacCready’s surprise, she gave Paladin Danse the first room to himself, leaving the second room for his boss and him. His cheeks grew red at the thought of sharing the double bed with his employer and at the memory of her taking her clothes off back at Sunshine Tidings Co-op. Nothing would come of the situation however, as she let him take the bed while she herself set up on the room’s only couch to clean her weapons. The methodical way she inspected her firearms entranced MacCready to the point that he couldn’t help but stare at her deft hands, finally ungloved for the first time since she had been unconscious on the Prydwen. Her left hand had a shiny golden ring on it, reminding him that she had lost her husband, much like he had lost his wife. Time went by slowly, resulting in him falling asleep half dressed while she was still taking care of her equipment, decidedly not interested in resting.

A loud scream woke MacCready up from what he presumed was a nice dream, deception and irritation present in his groggy mind. Gwendolyn had sprung up from the couch at the sound, running to their door. After a moment, he realized that she had never actually gone to sleep. A half-read book rested on the sofa she was sitting on, next to a mostly full bottle of bourbon. When he finally found enough strength to get out of bed, Gwendolyn was already gone, leaving the room’s door wide open in her wake. He heard her call Danse’s name, concern in her voice, while she banged on the door leading to the paladin’s room. In response, the soldier yelled for her to stay out, an order she refused to acknowledge. A quick lockpicking session later, she had entered Danse’s room, slamming the door behind her. Running steps and the crash of an object on the ground was heard before another loud bang shook the old wooden floor. Worried, MacCready took out his rifle and went after Gwendolyn to Danse’s room. He opened the door slowly, revealing a scene he couldn’t even believe was real.

The almighty paladin had fallen in a crumpled heap on the ground, his limbs shaking slightly while Gwendolyn petted his hair. She was kneeling behind his back, murmuring soft words of encouragement to Danse while he desperately tried to regain his composure. Her voice then began to gently sing a song MacCready had never heard before.

_The other night dear, as I lay sleeping_

_I dreamed I held you in my arms_

Paladin Danse’s shaking stopped, giving way to shallow, strangled breaths

_When I awoke, dear, I was mistaken_

_So I bowed my head and I cried_

Gwendolyn’s voice echoed in the hotel room, accompanied by Danse’s laborious breathing. She seemed completely at ease, as if such a situation was normal to her. Her hand kept brushing the man’s thick, jet black hair in confident motions, demonstrating how usual the whole scenario was for MacCready’s boss.

_You are my sunshine, my only sunshine_

_You make me happy, when skies are gray_

MacCready decided to silently make his escape, refusing to intrude on such an intimate moment of vulnerability for the paladin any longer. His curiosity begged him to stay, to ask, to say something, but he knew better than to try anything at this point.

_You’ll never know dear, how much I love you_

_Please don’t take my sunshine away._

Gwendolyn’s voice finally became inaudible when the door’s latch clicked shut. Nightmares due to trauma were something the mercenary had lived through as well in the years following the loss of his wife. What Danse must have been terrified of in his sleep, he couldn’t imagine, but the feeling of pure despair, pain and terror he had woken up with was all too familiar to MacCready. He returned to his own room which he knew he wouldn’t be sharing for the rest of the night and laid on the bed, eyes fixed to the old paint peeling off the ceiling. He was certain that Gwendolyn would remain by Danse’s side for the remainder of the night. She had definitely dealt with a person in a similar situation in her past, he thought, which also lead him to presume she knew better than to leave the traumatized man alone with his memories.

 

********************************

 

The next day, Gwendolyn took the group to Diamond City to meet with Nick Valentine, an encounter that definitely did not sit well with Paladin Danse. The old synth had no issues with the paladin’s animosity, further irritating the hulking man. After getting the mechanical detective up to speed, MacCready’s boss declared what the next step in her search for her son was.

“You can’t be serious, boss. That’s just… that’s suicide!”

“I have to agree with your mercenary, Clark. Going after an Institute Courser is not only unwise but dangerous. I advise you get yourself ready and await Brotherhood backup.”

“You’re the backup, Danse. You’re the help that Maxson allowed me to take from his ranks,” frowned Gwendolyn in response.

“Kid, I know there’s nothing I can say to stop you in this so I’d like to help you, if you’ll have me,” graciously offered Nick.

“No Nick, I can’t put you in danger like that. Who knows if that courser would have access to some tech or other to reclaim you or something. No, it’s not an option. Danse has a power armor to protect himself and MacCready will be in the back, safe from most projectiles. As it stands, I refuse to have you tag along.”

“Are you certain this is the best course of action, Gwendolyn? I believe it would be wise to try to obtain more troops for this endeavor.”

“Told ya already, Danse. Maxson won’t spare anybody else even though it’s probably the only way he’ll even get insider information on the Institute. Of course, I’m not planning on going after that courser today or tomorrow. I’m actually thinking of taking a week-long planification period in Sanctuary to get some supplies together. Does that ease your mind a little?”

“Affirmative,” stoically answered the paladin.

“Look, boss, we went after Kellogg and we both almost died. Now you’re getting us to do the same thing… this will not end well.”

“Same rule applies here, Mac. I die, you run. Same goes for you, paladin.”

“Negative, Knight. I will not leave one of my soldiers behind.”

“Then I’m not your soldier, I’m the General of the Minutemen. So you _will_ escape if I’m taken out. No questions asked. I won’t have you die because of me.”

“Gwen, I know that you want to protect us but we stay by your side willingly. We know what we’re getting ourselves into- ”

“Talk for yourself, Valentine,” rudely interrupted MacCready. His thin patience had reached its limit, giving way to frustration. “I’m being paid here and I’m not even sure any amount of caps could convince me to take this on.”

“Really? MacCready, is that really how you feel about being here? Then the door is right over there. Don’t let me keep you.” Gwendolyn’s face had turned red in what the mercenary interpreted as anger.

Shock spread through Nick's plastic skin while Danse's frown deepened, threatening to become a permanent fixture.

“Oh yeah, here,” Gwendolyn violently snatched a pouch of caps from her pack. “The caps I owe you for the raiders. There, no more strings attached, you can go. No more debt.”

Confusion and irritation spread through the young man. He grabbed the pouch and left Nick Valentine’s cramped detective agency office, making his way to the Dugout Inn to mull over what had just transpired. The moment he entered the dark bar, a loud greeting came from one of the owners of the establishments. Vadim Bobrov, a man with a strange accent MacCready had never heard before meeting him, waved the mercenary to the bar’s main counter.

“MacCready! Is good to see you, tovarisch. How is Lucy? She still as beautiful as I remember?”

“No… she didn’t make it, Vadim.”

“I’m sorry, mouth tends to be faster than brain. Tell you what, I give you a drink on the house… for old times.”

“Thanks. You were always a real stand-up kind of guy, Vadim. Let’s drink.”

The bartender served him a bottle of Bobrov’s Best, a moonshine made by the twins that own the place. According to Vadim himself, two shots of the strong brew was enough to get most men on the floor. Of course, MacCready had been drinking himself blind in the Third Rail for months, which greatly increased his tolerance to most spirituals. He downed the bottle rapidly, leaving Vadim to look at him with eyes as big as globes. MacCready then got up from the small stool he was perched on to lazily sit down in a more comfortable armchair. He pulled a cigarette from his pack, lit it and let himself slump, defeated, while the smoke filled his lungs. _I sure burned the wrong bridge today. No way she’ll take me back now. Goodbye caps. Goodbye deal with the Gunners. Why do I keep blowing away everything good that ever comes my way_ . _I'm just so stupid! Impatient, arrogant and stupid!_ Time went by while he kept smoking, other patrons coming and going while he stayed immobile. Vadim and Yefim, the Bobrov brothers, had come to see him multiple times, verifying he didn’t need anything else, more alcohol or more cigarettes, to whom he gave no replies. His mind was filled with the bitterness of regrets and the sourness of doubts coupled with crippling loneliness, emotions he felt most days in his life since leaving Little Lamplight, the cave he grew up in. It seemed to him that making enemies out of the powerful was his speciality, with the Gunners hunting him down and now the General of the Minutemen on his case. MacCready awoke from his paralysis due to a familiar voice.

“I’m not sure why you insist on wanting to travel with this… _insubordinate_ civilian, but it’s your decision.”

“Damn right it is, Danse. Now where’s my favorite gun...”

Gwendolyn was interrupted in her search by Vadim peddling his usual wares.

“Pretty lady! Happy to see you again, Gwenny. You order a drink from good ol’ Vadim, yes?”

“Not now, Bobrov. I’m looking for a merc that goes by MacCready. You seen him?”

“Yes, he’s over there in corner. Not looking well.”

“I can imagine. Thanks,” she answered after flipping a cap towards the bartender. She made her way in long strides towards the mercenary.

“My, my, look at you. Wanna hit the road, MacCready?”

“What do you want now, Gwendolyn?” His words had come out of him with more arrogance than he had meant to.

“I want you and your sweet cheeks to follow me to Sanctuary. Isn’t that a good enough deal?”

“For what? To have me thrown at a courser? I’ve got things to live for, you know.” _Stop it, imbecile! She's giving you a damn chance! Why can't I just suck it up for once!_

“I get it, you don’t want to die. News flash, same here. I’m just offering you a good place to stay while you rebuild your mercenary business. Goodneighbor doesn't sound like a good choice considering that the Gunners trailed you all the way here already. No need to follow me into the C.I.T. Me and Danse will have to figure it out from there.”

“Wait, you… you still want to help me…?”

“Of course! I’m not exactly going to let a friend be murdered over such an insignificant disagreement. Come on, you’ll be much safer in Sanctuary than you’ll ever be here, no offense to the owners.”

Danse decided to cut the sappy conversation short. “I suggest you take such a gracious offer, mercenary. I don’t suppose it’ll come twice.”

“Shush, Danse. Don’t be like that. I’d be nervous too if someone tried to convince me to put my life on the line just like that.”

“I don’t follow. You did offer to put your life on the line on nothing more than principle alone multiple times, Knight. You became a soldier and even a leader for the Minutemen for no reward or promise of money. Hell, you even ran into our feral infested compound to offer support after hearing my squad’s distress call without asking for anything in return. And now you're putting yourself in the sights of the Gunners to protect a low life mercenary.”

“Not the time for your morals, paladin. Let the poor man make his own decision.”

“I’ll come, boss.”

At his affirmation, Gwendolyn’s lips became a soothing smile that could heal anyone’s soul. MacCready got up from his seat, ready to follow his boss wherever he was needed. Paladin Danse was right, after all. If anyone deserved the mercenary’s services, it surely was this woman. She was delusional and naive, in need of true assistance in this unforgiving hellhole that is the Commonwealth. Yet, she was still a dangerously powerful ally and an even more dangerous enemy. MacCready only had to think of the state in which she had left Kellogg’s corpse to remind himself that, despite her frail appearance and her gentle ideals, she was a true, unstoppable killing machine. Strategically speaking, it was suicide to get on her bad side. Honestly speaking, he felt deep down that he didn't deserve such a loyal partner. _She's really a mystery, I swear._

“Alright boys, time to make way to Sanctuary! We’ll have to stop at Cambridge for the night since it’s already fairly late, which will leave us with another full day of travel time tomorrow to reach home.”

“I approve of your plan of action, Clark. Let’s get going.”

The trio left Diamond City a couple of hours before sundown, giving them just enough time to jog to the Cambridge Police Station before the neighborhood got overrun by feral ghouls. Paladin Danse was greeted like a true Brotherhood hero by his brothers and sisters in arms, leaving Gwendolyn and MacCready by themselves in a secluded area of the safe location. The mercenary had dreaded such a moment as he didn’t know what his boss would end up asking of him. They both had gotten irritated and angry at each other, leading to him deserting Gwendolyn and her having to pick him back up in a bar. Ironically, the situation was terribly similar to how they had initially met. After a while, his boss spoke first.

“I’m sorry for pushing this courser elimination mission on you. I should have known that it would have been a point of contention. I’m sure you’re not a mercenary by choice, therefore I should have known that it was too risky a business for you.” _What the- I'm the one that should apologize._

“Well, you’re right about my reason to be a mercenary… I have something specific to do out here in the Commonwealth.”

“I won’t hold it against you if you want to sit this one out. It’s going to be terribly dangerous. Honestly, I’m not even sure I’ll come back from it.”

“Aww boss, don’t sell yourself short. You survived worse, right? Kellogg, the Glowing Sea… You’ve been the first to survive those two, so why not a courser?”

“Ah, I guess you’re right.” Gwendolyn laughed for the first time in the day, bringing comfort to MacCready.

“But um, yeah. I’ll come along. Who’s gonna watch your back if I ain’t there?”

“Do you mean it? Like, really?”

“Yeah, I mean it.”

“Thanks Mac… You’re the best!”

Gwendolyn grabbed MacCready’s hand and gave it a peck, a gesture the mercenary would never  have expected. His cheeks grew red quickly, both from embarrassment and happiness. _Hancock was right, there isn’t another gal like her…_ He shifted Gwendolyn’s grip, allowing him to hold her hand in his. His boss’s hazel eyes pierced his, beautiful topazes giving him certain lustful and definitely inappropriate desires. He pressed his thumb on the back of her hand, brushing small circles on the leather glove that covered her tender skin, imitating the gesture he had performed back on the Prydwen, not that she knew about that. Her own face had turned a pleasant shade of pink. The fleeting moment was interrupted by an uncomfortable cough that came from Paladin Danse.

“Please forgive my interruption. I need to speak with Knight Clark in private, if possible.”

“Of course Danse, let’s go to the roof.”

The paladin dragged the woman with him, away from the mercenary. It left MacCready to wonder if the Brotherhood soldier would try to convince Gwendolyn to abandon him since his dislike for the mercenary was apparent. Or perhaps Danse wanted to speak of the event of the previous night. Whatever it was, MacCready was barely interested in the subject, preferring to go over what had just happened with his boss in his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone in the northern hemisphere, please do be careful with all the flash freeze garbage going on right now. Winter just isn't done with us!
> 
> I'm always terrified that I don't portrait characters correctly since most of these fine people do already exist within the Fallout 4 lore. There is no amount of research and psychological assessments (I used to be a psychology student with a solid background) that seem to alleviate my doubts that I'm just ruining what any of these boys and gals are about. Lately, I've been really worried about how I write Deacon. For some reason, even if I completely understand his character and have spent like two weeks reading and analyzing all of his in game dialogue, something in my head tells me that I just can't write him properly at all!
> 
> Anyways, if you're so inclined, please tell me what you think in the comments. I'd really appreciate it!
> 
> Also, in my writing process, I can officially declare that I'm halfway through writing Whispers and Bullets Part 1. That halfway point in around chapter 12 I think. I still have a couple chapters up my sleeve that you peeps can't peruse yet but yeah, we're almost half way there. I think I'll write up and post a short intermission before we get into Part 2 proper but please do look forward to it!


	9. Cryogenic Suffering

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where the truth is revealed

The hike from Cambridge to Sanctuary was punctuated by mole rat ambushes, creatures easily dispatched by Gwendolyn’s adept swordsmanship. When she wasn’t slashing wildlife, MacCready would try to entertain her with his sarcastic banter, which he realized she liked quite a bit. His boss often had bouts of laughter at his comments, to the exasperation of Paladin Danse that desperately tried to get the woman to keep quiet. On their way, they passed by the Starlight Drive-in, revealing to MacCready that the two women he had saved with Deacon were doing much better, having made a name for themselves as amazing cooks. Eventually, they arrived at a Red Rocket Truck Stop where Gwendolyn stopped for a moment to deposit materials for the settlers there. Both men were informed by their leader that it wouldn’t be much longer before they arrived in Sanctuary.

Upon their arrival, a dog jumped on MacCready’s boss, its tail wagging.

“Hey Dogmeat! Missed me, boy?” Gwendolyn patted the dog’s head. He let out a string of pleased barks before trotting away, satisfied.

“Gwen, that you?” called one of the settlers, a man known by the name of Sturges, MacCready recalled.

“Yep! Your fearless leader is finally home.” MacCready instantly recognized the expression. _Taking from the coolest ghoul in the Commonwealth, aren't ya? Hancock would be proud._ “How have things been in my absence? You guys were supposed to receive a number of caravans to take care of the lighting situation at hand.”

“It went mighty well. Got the new lampposts up like you wanted. Even had the time to make a number of new beds for the fresh arrivals.”

“Fantastic work as always, Sturges. If you don’t mind, my posse and I will take our leave. Can we take over my usual shelter?”

“She’s all yours, General.”

The handyman bid them farewell, letting the group to wander the bustling community at their leisure. MacCready had visited the town not so long ago so he had passed the initial wonderment phase that Danse was definitely in. The paladin gawked at the wooden houses spread along the major road of the settlement, the numerous storefronts and finally at the massive farms and animal pens. Sanctuary was self sufficient, well armed and bustling with families, merchants, caravans and drifters alike. The efforts that the Minutemen, the settlers and Gwendolyn had put forth had lead to the birth of the biggest town in the Commonwealth after Diamond City and Goodneighbor. The bewildered look in the soldier’s eyes evaporated only when they came across a mostly destroyed house still standing, the only one of its kind left. The pre-war relic stood, untouched by the villagers, like a sacred reminder of what Sanctuary Hills had been before Gwendolyn’s arrival in the Commonwealth. Silence enveloped the group when they settled down in the structure next to the derelict house, only broken by a sigh escaping their leader’s lips.

“Along with Hancock and Valentine, you both are my most trusted friends. I feel honestly awful that I kept who I was from you for as long as I did. Hancock and Nick are the only ones that know who I truly am and I’d like to change that situation, if you’re willing to listen.”

“You’ve listened to me in my time of need, Clark. I intend to do the same for you.”

“Thanks Danse… I suggest you all leave your things here. We’re going on a safe little trip.”

MacCready remained quiet, letting go of his pack in the room that would become his for the coming week. The time had finally come for his questions to be answered and he didn’t know if he still wanted all the answers he initially craved. The somber look on his boss’s face spelled trouble in his eyes.

The woman led the two men outside of town to a small bridge covering a lazy stream. Danse followed closely behind Gwendolyn, leaving MacCready to close off the procession. Wooden steps adorned the hill face in front of them, carving the way forward. When the three of them arrived at the top, they were welcomed by Vault-Tec equipment encircling what looked like a vault door, despite it being flat on the ground.

“When the bombs fell… I was here with Nate and Shaun, my husband and my baby. Please step on the platform there, I’ll activate the lift.”

“What? What bombs? You can’t really mean the ones from…”

“Yeah, Mac, I mean those. The bombs of the Great War.”

The paladin kept quiet, ushering the mercenary to follow him onto the Vault-Tec branded elevator. Gwendolyn activated a switch that was present in the only structure standing on the surface before joining the two men.

“We’ll be descending into a tomb… My tomb. It won’t be pretty,” warned Gwendolyn.

A mechanical crank was heard when the platform started lowering itself into the earth. The warm light of the sun gave way to the cold electrical lighting system of the vertical tunnel when a hatch closed itself above the small group. Gwendolyn grabbed her chest in her arms, hugging herself. Her face had turned pale, eyes closed. Danse nor MacCready dared approach her in fear of triggering either a rage or a crying fit in the tortured woman. Dust lifted in the air when the platform finally reached the bottom of its chimney. The vault, Vault 111, was already opened, its entrance littered with skeletons. A freezing breeze took hold of the mercenary’s entrails, awakening in his mind a sense of distress. They shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t be here. Gwendolyn asked for Paladin Danse to step out of his power armor as to not make too much noise and “disturb the dead” as she put it. The soldier reluctantly abdicated, stepping into the metal mouth of the vault in his orange flight suit.

Gwendolyn quietly walked along the cold corridors of the vault, making her way into the Vault-Tec installations. MacCready followed suit, Danse in tow. The trio eventually arrived in an open room filled with what looked like pods.

“This is where they took my family. All those things… Cryopods. They froze all of us without our consent. Vault-Tec’s little fridge experiment. It still makes me sick to think about it to this day.”

“That corporation’s greed and lack of humanity never ceases to amaze me,” uttered Danse.

Gwendolyn pressed onwards in between the pods. MacCready looked in horror at each one of them. They were filled with people, dead people, each a frozen coffin for an unsuspecting guinea pig.

“Did you… these people…”

“My neighbors and friends, yes. They all died due to a malfunction in the cryogenic installations.”

“My condolences, Knight.”

“Appreciate that, Danse, but the worst is still to come.”

One of the cryopods still emitted a blinding light, akin to a ray of sunshine finding its way to the ground through thick clouds. Gwendolyn stopped in front of it, head hung low. The wounded corpse of a man inhabited the pod.

“Meet my husband, Nate. He was… He was executed by Kellogg because he refused to let him take our son. I was in the pod in front of it. The _sound_ of his gun taking everything from me still haunts me. I… I saw everything and all I could do was weakly bang on the door…”

“Take as long as you need, soldier,” said Danse, a point of regret in his voice.

“I promised him… I promised to find Shaun… I keep failing you, Nate. I’m sorry…”

“You haven’t failed him or anyone, Gwendolyn. You’re still on your son’s trail and I’ll be damned if I’m not going to help you find him.”

“Danse… I don’t know what to say... “

Tears escaped her hazel eyes in slow streams. Grief and regret painted themselves on her features as she observed the corpse of her late life partner. MacCready was reminded of himself, of how he had spent sleepless nights taking care of his son after his wife’s passing. At this moment, the unbreakable leader of the Minutemen, the strong-willed woman he had met was gone, replaced by a grieving widow and mother to a lost child. Compelled to offer support to another parent like himself, he extended a hand to Gwendolyn’s shoulder. She shuddered under his touch, prompting him to retract his gesture.

“Hey, I'm really sorry. We don't have to be here if you don't want to... I... I'll leave you alone.” Those were the only words MacCready was able to speak before his throat itself cramped under the weight of his own emotions.

Gwendolyn broke in loud sobs and wails of anguish, falling to her knees. The mercenary and the paladin took a few steps back, giving their leader enough space to act out her despair. She pounded the metallic ground with her fists until the leather of her gloves ripped open. Fresh blood speckled the floor as she kept violently pushing out her misery through her hands. She eventually stopped her assault, forehead on the cold metal. Her body shook helplessly in front of the pod that housed her husband. Through her breaths, she whispered incantations of doom.

“I’m gonna find you, Shaun. I’m gonna kill them all. I’m gonna destroy the Institute for you, angel. They took you and Nate from me. They destroyed everything I cared about… I’ll kill them, slaughter them, murder them, destroy them…”

Gwendolyn’s eyes grew wide, wild fury consuming her irises. A rictus drew itself on her soaked lips. She looked terrifying. She got back up to her feet. Her entire body emanated an aura of pure, unchecked rage towards the ones that wronged her. The only weapon she had brought with her was her trusty sword in its scabbard on her left hip. She pulled it out in one swift motion, spraying blood from her knuckles onto the glass window of her husband’s frozen sarcophagus. The rabid woman vehemently attacked the pod, leaving grooves in the metallic surface with each hit of her blade. Paladin Danse became erratic, divided between his willingness to stop Gwendolyn and his self-preservation instinct. MacCready looked at his boss, pure terror and fear enlacing him.

Gwendolyn was stopped in her attack when the serrated blade of her sword finally snapped. The broken edge went flying, barely avoiding the paladin’s left shoulder. As if on cue, Danse ran to his soldier, grabbing her body with both his arms while she flailed like a rabid mole rat.

“Gwendolyn, that’s enough! Stop this madness!”

“I’LL KILL THEM, I’LL KILL YOU!”

“You’re completely out of your mind! Please, stop resisting!”

Gwendolyn roared like an enraged deathclaw before becoming inert in Danse’s arms. Her cries and tears returned.

“It should have been me. I should be in that pod, not him, not Nate. He’d have found Shaun by now. He’d have succeeded....”

“Gwen, don’t say that, please,” finally said MacCready, the shock of the turn of events finally releasing its grasp on him.

“To hell with the world. I should have died back then like everyone else.”

“Get yourself together, soldier. You’re here for a reason, don’t let that fact escape you.”

“It’s too much… just end me now. End it all.”

“I would never do such a thing,” spoke Danse, irritated.

The two men fell silent while Gwendolyn cried helplessly in Danse’s strong arms. MacCready was faced with the reality of who his boss really was for the first time since their first meeting. She was a two hundred-year-old woman that had been frozen when the apocalypse that destroyed her homeland happened. She was a widow and a mother in search for her only son. She was a relic from a long gone era. What Conrad Kellogg had said to them over the intercom back at Fort Hagen was true… _That explains a lot of things about her… Her ideas, the way she speaks to pre-war ghouls, the look she gets in her eyes when we would walk near broken down houses… It all makes sense._

Gwendolyn broke the silence when her senses came back to her and Paladin Danse let her escape his grip.

“I’m about… two hundred and thirty eight years old now I think. Well I’m actually twenty-eight since I was frozen for most of it all, but yeah. A woman out of time.”

“Wow… It’s… that’s nuts,” murmured MacCready.

“That untouched house back in Sanctuary? It was mine, before the war. The Commonwealth was my home and now, I can barely find my way around. Everything is so… _alien._ ”

“You must hold so much lost knowledge within you, Clark. I must ask that you let our scribes interview you at some point in the future.”

“Lay off her, man. It’s clearly not the time for that!”

“No, it’s alright, Mac. He’s right. I’d be honored to share whatever I can with your scribes. Now, if you guys don’t mind, I’d like to get the hell out of here.”

“Of course. After you, Gwendolyn,” directed Danse.

 

********************************

 

Gwendolyn stayed deathly silent the entire way back to their shelter in the heart of Sanctuary. The somber look in her eyes had somehow spread to her skin, making her look more like a corpse than a human being per say. MacCready’s mind was still racing at all the new information he had received from her. His intuition had somehow been completely right. She was a woman from another era entirely, unfit for this wasteland. His curiosity towards the pre-war world was very limited, yet he wanted to know more about her previous life. She had said that Vault 111 was her tomb as an indication that the Gwendolyn of yonder years was gone, buried back there with the body of her husband, Nate. Questions bubbled wildly in his mind, almost giving him a headache. Everywhere he had gone in the Commonwealth must have looked terribly different in her era, lush greens and deep blues in sight. Instead, all he knew was the sickly yellowed surface of the dead remains of trees and the red and light green of radstorms looming on the horizon. He bit his lip, paining to restrain himself out of respect for his boss’s grief and mental state. Her hazels had gone grey, no longer glinting with the light of life they usually held within. They made it to the well-equipped four bedroom house they had set their things in. Danse hopped out of his power armor yet again to head off somewhere, probably to go and gather intel on the little community he found himself in. MacCready was rooted in place, not knowing if he should leave his boss alone or try to get her mind off of the meltdown she had suffered back in the vault. Before he could make a decision as to how to proceed, she left him behind, heading back out of the house. He followed her slow steps, not willing to let go of her just yet. For all he knew, she could always hide somewhere and kill herself like she voiced she wanted to do earlier. She entered her ruined house, arms wrapped around her slim body. The mercenary followed.

Gwendolyn dragged her fingers along the dusty surfaces of the kitchen counter in front of her, a thoughtful look in her greyed eyes. Not much was left of the interior, just its metallic walls, a couple of kitchen appliances, a heavily damaged couch, a burned up flag in a wooden frame and, finally, a recently emptied picture frame. His boss drifted to the old world flag and grabbed it to her chest, sobs softly escaping her. It must have belonged to her or her husband, the young man thought. He himself slowly stepped into the building, taking in his surroundings. Eventually, Gwendolyn broke the heavy silence that had settled in the gutted structure.

“Nate was a war veteran. He often had nightmares about it… He never told me much but I figured that he must have witnessed true horrors.”

She let go of the flag, propping it back up on some shelves encased in the wall she faced. She turned her head, eyeing the mercenary with soaked eyes.

“I never deserved him. He was… the best man I’d ever met back then. And he liked me, a hooligan, a trouble maker. I somehow obtained a law degree in-between bar-hopping sessions and street fights. You know, before I escaped that vault, I’d never fired a real gun in my life. With my friends back in the day, we’d sometimes go to a shooting range and play with these airguns that shot pellets. They’re not nearly as heavy as the real thing.”

“Kind of like a BB gun?” attempted MacCready.

“Yeah, just like those. At least, I knew how to punch things. First thing I ever encountered out here was those disgusting Radroaches. Punching them to oblivion was really gross. Who knew they could have so much goo in them.”

MacCready held in a chuckle at the image she had provided.

“I fought my battles with words back in the day. And my fists sometimes. And a sword. Well it wasn’t really a sword… It was called a foil. Flimsiest sword ever, I swear. It was light and bended into targets but, then again, that was the point. Wouldn’t want to hurt your adversary, you know.”

“I don’t? What’s the point of any weapon if it can’t hurt the enemy?”

“It was a sport called fencing. Thinking back, it was a really silly activity, but it did give me some precious skills with a blade. I never got the chance to really thank my dad for getting me into that. I had no idea I’d have to use fencing to actually defend myself…”

Gwendolyn gave a longing stare to the corridor leading to the other rooms of the house. She seemed to hesitate before finally going in. MacCready diligently followed, observing the mostly empty rooms within. The largest one had been a bedroom. It was filled with a broken wooden bed frame, the mattress having been looted long ago. The walls were decorated with burnt paintings and a heavily damaged picture frame. The photo in it had been bleached by time and radiation, but it was still possible to see the figures of a man perched upon a woman holding a small bundle. _Family portrait after her child was born._

“When we ran out of our home to run to the vault, we didn’t have any time to pack clothes or pictures or anything sentimental. It’s all lost now, all of it. Only proof of my life before this wasteland is the wedding bands I have with me, mine and Nate’s. For all I know, my bastard life was just a dream before I got out of the pod I was in. It all feels too surreal to have existed. Well I know it did, I mean, I’m standing in what is left of the house Nate and I bought when we discovered I was pregnant…”

She trailed off, her head drooping down to hide her renewed crying. MacCready stepped up to her, deciding to lace his fingers in hers despite her still-bleeding knuckles. The gesture didn’t go unnoticed. She snapped her head towards him, eyes lit with shock and a certain _curiosity_. A faint smile drew itself on her tired face before she let go of his soft gaze, hanging her head down yet again. They stayed like that, completely silent, for what felt like an eternity.

Gwendolyn pulled his hand in her movement as she entered the room opposite to the bedroom. It wasn’t difficult to guess what the purpose of the room had been over two hundred years ago. It lodged a baby blue crib and a changing table. Toy blocks were scattered on the ground at his boss’s feet. A mostly destroyed mobile swayed gently in the breeze that came from the broken windows on their left.

“Shaun… Mom’s coming, okay? Mom will take you home.”

She choked back some tears threatening to escape her.

“The Institute will pay for taking you, I swear, my angel. I’ll get you back and we’ll be a family again…”

She let go of MacCready’s hand to perch herself above the crib. The mercenary observed her eyes turn from a depressed grey to their usual hazel, her will to fight coming back within her.

“There’s a Courser out there, Shaun. He has what I need to reach you. Just wait for mommy a little longer, okay angel? I’ll be right there with you… I’ll get you back.”

Gwendolyn sprinted out of her dilapidated house with the speed of a deranged yao guai, lifting both dust and dirt in her steps. MacCready, startled, desperately tried to match her pace to no avail. She ran to a large concrete building, slamming its door open and disappearing from view. The mercenary entered the building as well, looking for his escaped boss. The structure housed many metal cages filled to the brim with military equipment ranging from simple guns to missiles and mini-nukes. _Quite the collection of goodies in here, damn._ At the back of the large room, the only one within the concrete walls, Gwendolyn had snatched a ham radio, spinning its dials to her desired frequency.

“Come in Preston. It’s Gwendolyn. Come on in.”

“General? What can I do for you?”

“Head to Diamond City for me. I need you to pick up Cait from the Publick Occurrences office and bring her to Sanctuary. I think I’m going to need her expertise in the coming battle ahead.”

“You sure that’s a good idea?”

“A hundred percent. On the way, can you also pick up Hancock from Goodneighbor and leave the following message to Daisy?”

“Ready for your message, General.”

“Get your ass over here, choo-choo man.”

“That sounds ridiculous.” Preston laughed over the grainy radio waves as he scribbled down the message loudly.

“Meet me in Sanctuary in five days. Think you can handle it?”

“Of course, General. Anything else?”

“Bring some artillery grenades. I wanna have some fun with this.”

“I don’t like the sound of that.”

“Just do it and worry about it later, will you?”

“Fine. See you in five days from now. Preston out.”

The radio went silent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you have a date: Happy Valentines day! Have a great time with your loved ones!  
> If you don't have a date: Happy Valentines day! We may be alone but that doesn't mean we can't still have fun and hang out with friends!


	10. Escaping One's Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where some public enemies get what was coming to them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are you guys still enjoying this?

The peace and quiet of Sanctuary was a welcome change for MacCready after being on the run for the last months… for about a day. He was already growing bored and anxious of the relative safety of the community. While he wasn’t shackled to the settlement, he still didn’t want to simply leave his boss behind while she seemed to be dealing with some fairly intense emotional turmoil. He had observed Gwendolyn go from states of pure glee to depression in mere hours. Paladin Danse had also noticed her odd behaviour, opting to stay by her side as much as possible.

During the next day, MacCready had encountered a Mister Handy unit going by the name of Codsworth, which he gathered was Gwendolyn’s butler from way back before the war. The robot was somehow still functional two hundred years after its initial purchase. It spoke in a respectful british accent, nothing like the rough and crude voice of Whitechapel Charlie back in the Third Rail.

“Good morning, mister MacCready!” introduced the unit.

“Hey Codsworth. Already tending to everyone?”

“I live to serve, sir. Hopefully my efforts will let my master go about her usual tasks with no impediment. Miss Gwendolyn has been acting strangely since your group’s arrival yesterday. May I ask if you have any information that could allow me to understand her plight?”

“Gwen took us to the vault… she’s been out of her mind since.”

“Oh, mum. The world has been terrible to my dear master as of late. I shall prepare her favorite wasteland dish to cheer her up!”

“You do that, buddy. She needs it now more than ever.”

“Thank you for your aid, mister MacCready. I am pleased to see that my master has such attentive friends at her side. Even mister Danse has been taking care of Miss Gwendolyn in my stead. Mum is truly lucky to have you all with her.”

The robot departed towards a supply shed, bobbing along the terrain with its thruster, leaving MacCready behind with his own turmoil. He needed to move, get on the open road again. Staying static only made his own demons come to him with feverish abandon. It only led to him wanting to drown his sorrows in the sweet burn of booze. His boss was going insane, his son was dying, his life was threatened and all he could do was sit on his ass all day. That just wouldn’t do. He needed a distraction as quickly as possible before he started to lose his grip on himself. _It just might be time to tell Gwen about my plans for the Gunners. Maybe that’ll keep her mind occupied and she’ll get a grip._

He searched for Gwendolyn in the streets of Sanctuary, his search yielding no result, until he heard the loud staccato of Paladin Danse’s armored boots hitting the ground. The mercenary followed the sound as silently as he could, wondering what the soldier was up to.

“You really should get out of your tin can, Danse. I don’t see what’s the advantage of your power armor right now.”

“You can never be too prepared, Clark. While out in the open, you should always be ready to fight.”

“Sure, big guy. All I’m gonna be fighting today are tough stains. Come on, pass me the next batch, will ya?”

Gwendolyn was kneeling near the small river encircling Sanctuary. A good amount of Abraxo Cleaner boxes had been laid out next to her, their contents already emptied in the large vat she was using to wash her vault suit clean along with other clothes. A spark of orange caught MacCready’s eyes. Seems like she was also taking care of Danse’s flight suit. The paladin was assisting as best he could with his large, clumsy metallic hands, holding onto clothes that still needed a thorough scrubbing. Suddenly, a crow yelped near the mercenary, revealing his presence to his boss. She looked towards his position, a look of confusion emanating from her hazel eyes.

“Who goes there?” barked the paladin, wielding his usual laser rifle towards MacCready despite the load of cloth within his arms.

“Woah, woah. It’s just me.”

“Mac? Trying to sneak up on us?” Gwendolyn giggled.

“Can’t fault me for trying, boss.”

MacCready approached the woman, trying to take note of her appearance. Dark circles hovered under her irises, betraying her lack of sleep and emotional state. Still, either unaware or trying to hide her pain, she smiled at him. She was wearing a clean flannel shirt and slacks that expertly hid her emaciated body, still underweight since her return from the Glowing Sea. Her hands let go of the vault suit in the vat, instead waving the mercenary to her side.

“Need anything washed?” she asked sheepishly.

“No, no thanks. It’s not like I have a change of clothes anyways. Shouldn’t you let Codsworth take care of that?”

“Honestly, I just needed to do something with my hands that wasn’t gun maintenance. Being cooped up in here isn’t exactly my favorite hobby, you know.”

“Ah, I get ya, boss. I actually wanted to ask you something.”

“Oh, this sounds good. Out with it.”

“Don’t you think it’s nice to be on the open road? Goodneighbor was starting to wear out its welcome.”

“Sounds like you had a rough time of it back there. As much as I love the mayor, it’s not exactly my favorite place in the world.”

“Rough? That's putting it mildly. Let's put it this way. Can't get much rest when you're sleeping with one eye open. Still, it was the best place for me to set up shop. Diamond City's goons would have run me out of town and wandering the Commonwealth alone isn't the brightest plan when you're hard up for caps.” Gwendolyn simply nodded along with his comments.

“Setting up shop? What do you mean?”

“I needed somewhere to hang out so that people could find me when they required my services. The folks in Goodneighbor tended not to ask too many questions, which suited my needs. So, I made a deal with Hancock and started waiting for the caps to roll in.”

“I hope you aren't in any more trouble.” Her voice conveyed genuine concern, something that surprised him.

“No, not really... but… I don't usually go around sharing stuff like this, but you've been pretty straight with me, so I'm going to be straight with you. It's those two assh…” MacCready caught his tongue before continuing. “those two idiots you saw me talking to at the Third Rail, Winlock and Barnes. They've been hounding me for months and it's been driving off clients. No one wants to touch me once they learn I used to run with the Gunners. And I figured if I could get enough caps together, maybe I could buy them out.”

“I wouldn't trust those guys, even if you paid them off,” huffed Gwendolyn in annoyance.

“Yeah... I'm right there with you. Winlock and Barnes have a small army of Gunners with them at all times. They might decide to just keep the caps and put a bullet in my head for good measure. If I set up a place to meet them, I'm sure they'd roll in with everyone they've got. Unless…” _It’s now or never. She’s been listening attentively so far so…_ MacCready took a deep breath, trying to push away the anxiety he had been holding on to this whole time. He didn’t know what he would do if his boss refused to aid him. “Maybe you and I could pay them a little visit and put an end to them before they realize what's going on. And before you get that look on your face, let me just say that I wouldn't even be asking if I didn't trust you.”

Her answer was instantaneous, no doubts or apprehensions piercevable through her voice, eyes and posture. “If you need my help, I'm there.” Her affirmation radiated confidence and trust. _I can’t believe it. She… She cares. She actually looks like she wants to help me…_ _Colour me surprised, I would have never expected this from anyone._

“Wow... I don't know what to say. Truth is, I haven't been able to rely on anyone since I was a kid. Everyone I've met has either tried to rip me off or plant a knife in my back. But you. You're different. We see eye-to-eye on almost everything. And I have a funny feeling you actually care about what happens to me. That's why I asked for your help.” Gwendolyn smiled warmly at him, confirming MacCready’s statement. _She does. She really does. Thank God she does._ “I'll tell you what. I'm going to make this easy on you. If you feel like helping me with this, head over to the Mass Pike Interchange and we'll take them down. If you don't, I'm not going to hold it against you. Either way, thanks for hearing me out. It's nice to know that you care.”

Gwendolyn sprung to her feet and threw herself at the mercenary, taking him in a warm embrace. MacCready felt panic well up in him, unable to think of what to do. She nuzzled her nose in his shoulder affectionately, making his entire body grow hot and red at the sudden physical contact. She noticed the shift in temperature in his chest, releasing him with a timid expression.

“Whatever happens, Mac, you can always count on me. As a matter of fact, let’s go, now. Let’s not make those two asshats wait any longer for their long-awaited retribution.”

Danse had taken several steps back during their conversation, giving them as much privacy as he would allow while still being able to look after his knight, but, now that Gwendolyn had decided to throw herself in danger, he rushed to her and took her by the shoulders.

“Have you taken leave of your senses, Clark?! We’re gearing up for war with an Institute Courser and you want to go get yourself killed instead of nursing your manic state? You’ve definitely grown more insane that I could ever imagine.”

“Lemme think… nope. I’m about as lucid as I’ve ever been. We’re taking care of Winlock and Barnes right now. You don’t have to shadow me like a love-sick puppy, Danse. But then again… I might actually be able to use your abundant skill set for this. MacCready needs help and I’m gonna help, just like I helped you when you needed it. So either I do this with you, or without you. Your choice.”

“You will be the death of me, Gwendolyn.”

“Probably” Gwendolyn shrugged. “But you love it, don’t deny it. The thrill of a fight, the anticipation of battle, the sweet victory...”

“Alright. There’s no way I’m convincing you otherwise so we better just get this over with. Let’s get going, Knight.”

 

********************************

 

The sun began to set when the trio arrived at the Mass Pike Interchange, not that it made much of a difference for their operation. The above-ground structure was well lit by fires and industrial lights. Gwendolyn had donned her freshly washed vault suit and a brand new set of combat armor. She had brought her usual firepower, minus her sniper rifle and her sword. Since the blade had snapped back in Vault 111, she had exchanged it for a devilishly sadistic weapon. The heated straight blade of a Shishkebab dangled at her hip. The flaming blade had been upgraded with additional flame jets and barbed wire even adorned the back edge. It was definitely a terrifying weapon to look at. MacCready wondered if she would be able to wield it as fluidly as she did her old sword, considering that her new weapon was longer and much heavier. On the other hand, he felt she would be safer with the longer blade, putting her farther away from her melee targets. Paladin Danse, in comparison, simply remained in his power armor, rifle at the ready.

“Uhm, aren’t they just arrogant? All the lights and troops… They are just screaming for someone to kick their ass!”

“Well said, boss. So, what’s your game plan? Please tell me you have an idea here.”

“Yeah, yeah, working on it as we speak.” _She’s really not inspiring confidence here…_

“If I may, Clark, I would like to suggest a way forward.”

“Of course Danse, lay it on me.”

“During our travel, I noticed an unused and unmanned rising platform that should get us onto the overpass while remaining undetected. I suggest we make our approach from their own level and take them by surprise.”

“Ah ha, I got it! Yes, you and MacCready go up to the interchange. I’ll try to work my charm on them, take them from the inside. I know it’s risky but I think I can weasel my way to Winlock and Barnes. Begin your assault at my signal. I’ll uhm… I’ll sneeze really loud, how about that?”

“No, Gwendolyn, I can not allow you to do such a dangerous play. What if they do not buy into whatever you tell them? You risk being gunned down on the spot. I simply won’t let you do something so dangerous, soldier.”

“It’s the only real plan we have. If we all attack from up there, they’ll have more chances to spot us and we’ll be pressed for space. No, we have to divert their attention from their exposed flank.”

“Then let me do it. If they decide to gun me down, I’ll have the advantage of my power armor.”

“What? No. What would they think of a Brotherhood Paladin going to see them? No, no. They’ll probably radio whoever commands them before you can even open your mouth. No, it’s gotta be me. And no, Mac, I’d never send you alone to meet with those fuckers after they made threats to your life in my face.”

“I… Thanks boss.”

“Okay boys, time to get in gear. See you on the other side and listen for the signal.”

Danse and MacCready headed to the abandoned platform elevator against their better judgement. All they could do was believe in Gwendolyn’s uncanny charisma and ability to spin men around her fingers. The mercenary felt a ball of anxiety form in his stomach. If anything happened to his boss out there, it would be his fault entirely. When they reached the platform, both men entered a crouch before pressing the glowing red button that would seal the deal on their attack plan. Danse looked as stoic as usual, leaving MacCready to wonder if he was actually worried about the operation. Surely he must have been, considering it put Gwendolyn in immense danger.

They set up behind some of the rusted buses littering the remains of what had been a passing highway. MacCready pulled out his sniper rifle, still equipped with the recon scope Gwendolyn had gifted him. The moment he laid eyes on it, a ping of warmth briefly took hold of his mind before vanishing, and the fear and worry that were eating at him came back tenfold. Placing his eye to the scope, he tried as best he could to find Gwendolyn among the Gunners. She seemed to be casually speaking to Winlock, baiting him with a pouch of caps. The man’s face contorted in a predatory grin as he eagerly took the leather bag. His boss looked pleased, one hand resting on her hip while she presented her interlocutor with the other one. A handshake ensued, followed by the dreaded sneeze signal.

Paladin Danse entered a sprint, firing his laser rifle at the unsuspecting Gunners, turning three of them into red ashes while the others ducked for cover. MacCready took his chance as well, firing his sniper rifle onto whoever had not properly entered cover yet. The Gunner soldiers answered in kind, firing plasma and combat rifles towards Danse. The paladin evaded most bullets, and the few that hit their mark ricocheted harmlessly against the steel of his armor. MacCready’s heartbeat went up rapidly, consumed by terror when he realized that Gwendolyn was nowhere to be seen anymore. Before he could move in to find her again, he spotted Barnes preparing a grenade.

“Danse, grenade!”.

The paladin ducked behind a mound of cinderblocks, bracing for impact. The mercenary tried to shoot the grenade in midair, but missed his target by a hair. That’s when he saw the biggest threat on the battlefield: an assaultron speeding towards Danse. The fearsome combat robot would easily be able to scorch the paladin’s power armor with its powerful eye laser. Gathering a breath, MacCready fired as many bullets as he could into the vulnerable socket in the middle of the robot’s face, attempting to slow it down. He emptied his clip, barely harming the murderous machine. The assaultron charges its laser, giving its head a menacing glow. The discharge sent a bolt of deadly light towards Danse who, aware of the threat, chose to stay under cover. The situation they were in started to look hopeless, as Gunners closed in on Danse’s position by weaving their way through the derelicts vehicles that littered the overpass. Without a miracle, they would have to fall back and abandon Gwendolyn like she always clammered they should do if she was presumed dead. What had MacCready done, letting her get herself killed for his sake. Another person he cared about, gone forever.

An explosion shook the battlefield, loud clanking sounds resonating within the old concrete. The assaultron looked back towards its owners to assess their situation. MacCready saw the body of Barnes slump to the ground, motionless, blood furiously bubbling out of his neck. It had somehow been severed in the explosion. Winlock let out a visceral scream.

“YOU FUCKING BITCH!”

Paladin Danse didn’t hesitate to take advantage of their enemies’ lapse in concentration, clashing his armored shoulder into the assaultron and making it topple over the edge of the overpass. The robot crashed to the ground below, completely destroyed in the impact. MacCready resumed taking down the remaining Gunners in the area. The sounds of battle eventually came to an abrupt halt at a command from Winlock. The man had only one soldier still standing, a woman in a heavily damaged power armor. It had sustained multiple burns from Danse’s laser rifle as well as bullet impacts from Gwendolyn who had been fighting her own battle at the other end of the camp, out of the range of vision of her allies. The paladin had halted his assault at the sight of Winlock coming out of cover. Their enemy emerged from the back of his stronghold with several wounds and a broken arm. He held Gwendolyn by her hair using his good arm, dragging her body behind him. The woman was writhing in both pain and rage, trying to dig her nails into her assailant’s flesh. The man slowly angled his victim to the side of the crumbling interchange, close enough for MacCready to understand that he meant to throw his boss overboard. Pure fury took hold of him, making him snarl and run towards Winlock.

“LET HER GO!”

“MacCready?” Winlock tilted his head in disbelief. “Since when did you grow enough balls to take me on? How did you think this would end?”

“Remain calm, mercenary. We need to guarantee Clark’s safety. Any miscalculated movement could prompt him to drop her to her death.” Paladin Danse had stopped MacCready in his enraged sprint using his armored arm.

“I kept telling the higher-ups that we should have just killed your skinny ass when you deserted. Whatever, I’ll just have to do it myself after I have a bit of fun with this one.”

Winlock smashed Gwendolyn on the pavement, positioning his left knee on her back. The woman growled in response, baring her teeth.

“Feral little bitch. Hey, wait… that’s the vaultie from the Third Rail, the one that kept smiling like a fucking creep. What a coincidence, ain’t it.”

“Let her go or I will take you down.” warned Danse.

“Yeah? How? Can’t shoot me when I’m like this.” Winlock removed his weight from Gwendolyn’s spine, instead moving her in front of him as a shield. The Gunner decided to lick her exposed cheek to show his dominance over the situation. “I’m disappointed, MacCready. Disappointed you’d need a cute little whore to do your dirty work.” He shook MacCready’s boss mercilessly. “Bitch got us good with her rigged caps. Good work, little whore. Now, what’s it gonna be? I’m giving you a chance to just walk away. I’ll keep this bitch and you can just leave.”

“Like hell I’m gonna let you hurt her!” MacCready started to lose his mind at the sight of Gwendolyn. Blood ran from her scalp under the grip of her abuser. The mercenary struggled to free himself from Danse’s grip.

“Alright, I’m just gonna have to kill her now before taking your punk ass down. Watch closely MacCready! That’s what you get for fucking with the Gunners!”

Winlock slammed Gwendolyn face first into the pavement at his feet, prompting the woman to whine. He lifted her head back up, revealing her face, bloodied from a fresh cut to her forehead. One of her eyes had also been heavily bruised. The position in which he held her up on display had her on her knees, her back slumped backwards. A vicious snarl escaped Gwendolyn’s throat as she reached for her left boot, pulling out a switchblade she had concealed. She repeatedly stabbed Winlock’s right thigh, forcing the man to release his grip on his victim.

“SHOOT HIM NOW!” yelled Gwendolyn as she rolled away from the Gunner, readying an attack of her own.

Paladin Danse didn’t need another shout from Gwendolyn to act. He fired rapid red bolts towards Winlock, to no avail. The armored soldier had stepped forward, shielding her commander with her damaged power armor. MacCready fired as well, pelting the Gunner underling with shots straight into her fractured helmet, eventually piercing the distorted metal. The soldier crashed to the ground, dead, revealing Winlock yet again. This time, however, Gwendolyn had been able to pull out her Shishkebab and pierced the man’s chest with the flaming blade.

“Fuck you Winlock. I am no whore.” she menacingly whispered to the dying Gunner.

In a swift pullback, she released her blade, killing Winlock. Gwendolyn looked upon the corpse of the cruel man with disdain before lowering her flaming weapon. Red rivers trickled from her face to the ground as she panted, trying to regain full control over both her body and emotions. MacCready threw his rifle to the side, sprinting to his boss. She went limp when his arms wrapped themselves around her waist.

“Gwen! It’s okay, you’re safe!”

“Man, not that it’s a bad sight but am I supposed to see two MacCreadys?”

“You’re concussed, Gwendolyn. Nothing a couple of stimpacks can’t fix.” Danse remained as robotic as usual, simply pulling a medical pack from a compartment of his power armor.

“How did we do, Mac? Good enough?”

“This should send a message to the Gunners to stay off my back.”

“I’d hope so! I'm sure they heard you loud and clear.” Gwendolyn was already back to her usual banter, laughing wholeheartedly even in such a state.

“Set her down, mercenary. She needs first aid immediately.”

“Yeah, of course.” answered MacCready weakly. He set his boss down, propping her back against a concrete barrier. Methodically, Danse pricked her neck with a stimpack and began to sterilise her wounds with a rag he had dabbled in vodka. When the paladin was satisfied of the dressing he applied to her lacerations, he silently gave permission to the mercenary to resume their conversation.

“They definitely heard. For the Gunners, it's always about the bottom line. They just lost this entire waystation and that cost them big. Besides, they have no way of knowing I was involved. Anyway, I guess I owe you a favor now. After all, you hired me but I'm the one that dragged you out here.”

Gwendolyn looked at him, confusion present on her injured features. “You don't owe me, you clearly needed the help.”

“Sure, but I like everything to remain nice and even... and you're one up on me.” His boss eyed him quizzically when he reached into his pack for a familiar leather pouch. “Tell you what. I'm going to give you back the caps you paid me in Goodneighbor… and the ones for the raiders. I'll still stick with you because that was part of the original deal, but now we're even. There you go.” Gwendolyn reluctantly accepted the caps he handed her. “I guess we’re done here. Lead on, boss.”

With some assistance from her paladin, his boss was able to stand. She voiced that her entire body ached but that, apart from her face and her scalp, she had sustained no real injury. MacCready fetched his discarded rifle before joining the two others on the platform that would take them back to firm soil. A question escaped the mercenary’s lips.

“You rigged the caps you gave them? What did you do, boss?”

“Rigged a bottlecap mine in the bag I handed them. Only had to detonate it remotely.”

“Genius, just genius” exclaimed MacCready.

“Gwendolyn, that was way too dangerous. How can you have so little interest in your own preservation? You could have easily blown up with the rest of them.” Danse scolded her.

“What’s the fun in playing it safe? Either way, it worked, so case closed.”

Dumbfounded, MacCready couldn’t help but smile. _Never a dull moment with this insane woman. A good deal all around._


	11. Like a Moth to a Flame

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where MacCready encounters more inner demons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter deals with depression, self hatred and suicidal thoughts. You've been warned.

Back in Sanctuary, MacCready spent the day following their attack on Mass Pike Interchange in anxious procrastination. His boss was resting in their house, leisurely spending time in bed to recover from the concussion she had suffered at the hands of Winlock. He, in comparison, decided to spend his time a little ways away from Sanctuary, staring into the wilderness. Paladin Danse had given him an earful about endangering their pack leader, listing off an incredible number of reasons why he should leave Gwendolyn to go find “lowlife mercenary work” elsewhere. If he was to be honest with himself, he deserved the paladin’s anger and then some. In a misguided effort to bring solace to his boss, he had dragged her along to do his bidding, putting the both of them in immense danger. All that because he was restless in the peace of Sanctuary and because she seemed to share that same feeling.

_ Disappointed you’d need a cute little whore to do your dirty work.  _ Winlock’s words scarred MacCready deeply. He had used Gwendolyn to do his work, whether she felt it was her simply helping him or not. He had needlessly endangered her against his better judgement as well. The cruel sentence whirled in his mind over and over again, giving shape to his inner demons. All he ever did in his rotten life was to take. Take everything he could and never give anything in return. Take caps, take lives, take up space. But then again, if he opened up to others, they always turned on him, stabbed him in the back and left him to die somewhere, both figuratively and literally. Gwendolyn would definitely be safer without him shadowing her steps, especially after she stupidly thrusted herself at the vicious Gunners for his sake. Clearly, he didn’t deserve her. He didn’t deserve her charming smile, her infectious laugh, her motherly worries, her grounding presence and her beautiful soul. To him, she was a paradox, innocent ideals of a dead world coupled with the viciousness of a deathclaw when defending those important to her. Would he ever be deserving of the protectiveness which she displayed so transparently for him over the weeks he had known her? No. The only answer he could muster up was a simple no. He didn’t deserve Lucy either, back when she was still breathing his name in eager worship. He didn’t deserve the son they had brought into the world together either. All he could think of was how much of a coward he had always been, lying to his tender half about his identity, then abandoning their son behind.  _ I’m no soldier, I’m just a hired killer. _ MacCready reached for his pack and pulled out a scrap of cloth bundled together. He held it in his calloused hand, observing the bundle with mournful eyes. He parted the fabric to reveal a small toy soldier, a memento of his wife and the lies he had told her in order to shield her from himself. He had lied to her, telling her he was a soldier in the defense of others, giving him plenty of excuses to leave her back at the homestead when he had to meet clients. In her care for him, she had made the precious trinket, her representation of her idealistic image of him, a stalwart soldier in both heart and body. The wooden toy’s paint had pathetically begun to chip, betraying its age.  _ Damn, I miss Lucy… _

A ruffled sound made him jump in his skin. He quickly shoved the memento back in its protective fabric and delivered it to a specific pocket within his pack. In a panic, he got back to his feet, rifle at the ready. Whoever or whatever had crept up on him would be greeted with a nasty spray of bullets, of that he was certain. Can’t a guy just get some alone time anymore?  This breach of privacy spiked his anger and got his blood boiling, but the ring of a familiar voice quenched it in an instant.

“Can I come over?”

“You really have to stop sneaking up on me.” His tone betrayed his indignation.

“I can come back another time if I interrupted something…” Hers betrayed her sorrow at his rude welcome.

“Nevermind that, what’s up? Anything I can do for you, boss?”

Gwendolyn timidly approached him when he finally lowered his rifle, a pitiful look in her eyes, like a puppy being punished for its misbehaviour. MacCready dropped back on the rock he had used as a seat, facing away from the woman. She circled him and sat by his side in the yellowed grass.

“I’m sorry for intruding.” He didn’t answer. “I just wanted to check on you, see how you felt after what went down yesterday. That was quite a skirmish, I have to say. Totally slipped out of my control at some point too.” She trailed off, gathering her thoughts while he quietly observed her. She looked alright, bandages covering the cuts she had suffered. Dark bruises colored her features but her eyes presented no dark circles for once. “You aren’t afraid the Gunners are going to retaliate?”

“The way these lunatics act, you'd think they would... but I know better. Don’t worry about it, boss. They’ll just cut their losses. And like I said, they’ve got no way to knowing I was involved at all.”

“Okay, if you say so. I’ll just keep an eye out for those fuckers. I don’t really feel like biting the dust when I’m so close to my goal.” A wave of shame swept over MacCready, reminded him that she had problems of her own, such as finding her son and exacting her revenge on the Institute. He really didn’t deserve her help with the Gunners. His face must have contorted somehow since her gaze changed from one of amusement to one of concern.

“Are you okay, Mac? You’ve been awfully quiet since yesterday. I thought you’d be more… I dunno, happy about finally being free from those assholes.”

“I’m fine.”  _ I’m not.  _ “Just thinking of my next move.”  _ I’m thinking about how much of a jerk I am. _ “You shouldn’t worry about me, boss. You’ve got bigger things to think about.”  _ Stop being nice to me. I don’t deserve it. Leave me be. _

“Yeah, I have to say that I’m not exactly excited about that whole Courser thing. And I have to wait for Preston to bring me my troops before really planning anything. I just thought that, in the meantime, you and I could do with a little celebration.”

He snapped his head to look at her impish grin. She produced an aged bottle of whiskey as well as two glasses from behind her back. “Come on, let’s have some fun,” she added when she handed him a glass.

The amber liquid leaked out its bottleneck into both of their tumblers. Gwendolyn propped her glass upon her lifted knee. She had decided to shift her position to approach him, a leg curled under her while the other could be used as an armrest. Her eyes rested on the sloshing liquid in her glass as she moved it in circles. MacCready held his own, static, almost waiting for her to give him permission to partake. Her face lifted itself to his, a warm glow on her damaged visage. 

“Shouldn’t we toast to something?” she said. “How about… To dead assholes? Or no, much better… To us!” She clicked her glass on his, a grin showing her white teeth.

“To us, then.” He lifted the liquid to his mouth, anticipating the glorious burn it would bring to his throat. In kinds, Gwendolyn had gripped the rim of her glass with her lips, letting the amber whiskey slip into her mouth. The way her lips parted was sensual, hypnotic even. Embarrassed at his own thoughts, MacCready closed his eyes and drank his whiskey rapidly.

“Hey, slow down, sweet cheeks. This is one of my best bottles, don’t squander it,” she chuckled under her breath.  _ Ugh, that nickname again. _

They spent the better part of the afternoon drinking together, the whiskey making them tipsy. Red roses bloomed along Gwendolyn’s skin, giving away her inebriation. Eventually, some bloatflies showed their ugly mugs in the distance, prompting MacCready to show off his sniping talents. A deep breath and a click took down the two mutated flies in one hit.

“Wow, amazing!” Gwendolyn squealed in delight.

“So, you impressed yet? I told you I was a damn good shot.” Gwendolyn laughed that clear laugh of hers, making a wave of pride take hold in MacCready’s gut.

“Actually, I'm  _ quite _ impressed.”

“Yeah... I thought you might be.” He gave her a knowing look, almost suggestive. Her eyes narrowed shyly.  _ Adorable _ . “I'm completely self-taught, you know. Picked up a sniper rifle when I was ten and I never looked back. Always thought it was smarter to hit my targets at long range. I mean, why take chances, right?” A somber tone took hold of his voice, having to recall his past. “Besides, I had to come up with every trick in the book to survive the Capital Wasteland.”

Gwendolyn had definitely picked up on his tonal shift. “I can't imagine how difficult it must have been out there.”

“Well, at least I wasn't alone. Lived underground in a place called Little Lamplight with a bunch of other kids. Left there when I was around sixteen. We kind of had a policy there... no adults. When you were sixteen, you packed up and left. I know it sounds crazy, but having adults around was something we couldn't trust.”

Her eyes took on a sorrowful quality, probably at the image of young children abandoned in a cave. She definitely had a soft spot of children, considering her missing son and all that. “Makes sense, I suppose.”

He didn’t even dare hide his disgust for the world. “Nothing makes sense anymore. You just roll with the punches.” He took a deep breath, before resuming his tale. “Anyway, when I hit sixteen, I ended up wandering the Capital Wasteland for a while. I took the odd job here and there, but things were pretty hot with the Brotherhood of Steel running the show.” Her questioning gaze interrupted his monologue. 

“What were they doing all the way back there?”

“They initially helped with this water purification project… Then they just took control of everything, taking whatever they wanted and barely giving back the water they promised.”

“That’s… That’s awful. Water should be available to everyone, not taken control of…” She looked visibly frustrated at the revelation that the Brotherhood wasn’t as honorable as she thought. She would definitely bring it up with Danse, MacCready thought.  _ Sorry not sorry. You guys had it coming. _ To shift her attention away from the sour subject, he returned to his original story.

“So I hitched a ride with a caravan and made my way north until I ended up here. Made a pretty decent name for myself before I heard that the Gunners needed some sharpshooters. Biggest mistake of my life.” Gwendolyn gazed at him once more, a certain heartache present in her hazel eyes. “They were animals. Killed anything that moved if it got in their way. I went with it for a while, because the caps were good. But, I dunno, I guess it started to catch up with me... so I quit. Which pretty much brings us to now. So there you have it, my whole life in a nutshell.”

She observed him, pouring whiskey in both of their glasses once more. At this point, the bottle was almost empty, probably only held two more shots of its amber liquid. Her demeanor betrayed _ something _ he couldn’t put his finger on. Was she disgusted with his life, or maybe pleased that he shared it with her? Conflictual feelings bounced in his mind while she sipped on her glass. He pleaded silently for her to say something, anything.  _ I told her my life, well most of it. It’s nothing pretty to look at, I know, but it’s not that bad, right? She can’t be… rethinking our partnership after this..? _ Her eyes took hold of his yet again, a shadow hovering in her irises. He couldn’t tell what it all meant, not at all. She didn’t look disgusted or mad.  _ Just say something… _

“Sounds like the road can be a lonely place... until you meet someone to share it with.”

Her voice took him aback. Her words barely registered in his mind. Her look didn’t make sense to him. What she had said was… flirtatious, suggestive even. MacCready’s mind raced for something, anything to say in response. He huffed out his lack of understanding.

“I... well, I never thought of it that way.”  _ Come on, man up. Answer her. You don’t deserve her but you can’t leave her hanging either. Just be honest…  _ “Maybe that's why I feel so comfortable telling you all of this.”  _ Ugh, good job, that barely covers it. She’s about the best thing you got right now and she’s making a move.  _ His mind spiralled in a mix of flirtatious lust and self-loathing at his lack of guts. The alcohol in his veins cried for him to just let go of his inhibition and give in to the sexual tension he had been feeling for his boss for days now. The little rational part of him that was left in his head pleaded for him to not push himself onto her. What to do... 

“Look, I know I tend to be a pain in the ass... I mean, I know I tend to be arrogant and I come off like I want to be alone,” he decided to blurt out.  _ Honesty, just stick with honesty. Tell her how you feel and not what your dick wants to actually say right now. She’s a grieving widow, for god’s sake. _ “Nothing could be further from the truth. Being alone scares the heck out of me. Now that we've been traveling together for a while, I'm beginning to realize how much I missed having someone I could depend on. I just wanted you to know that I'm going to do everything I can to see that it stays this way. Well, that's all I had to say. Hope you got something out of all that. I know I did.”

His thoughts finally slowed down after he had unloaded his emotional baggage. He dared a look towards Gwendolyn that had stayed uncharacteristically silent through his ordeal. She was eyeing him patiently, letting him say his piece, however embarrassing it was. She was close, _ too close _ . During his monologue, she had shifted again, taking a seat on the rock he was perched upon, only a couple of millimeters from him. He could feel the heat of her body warming up his side, her breath next to his face, her skin brushing against his. He felt like running away from the sudden intimacy, too rattled to withstand his boss’s presence. Before he could act on his mortifying insecurity, Gwendolyn’s fingers gently took hold of his free hand in a terrifyingly careful motion.

“Thank you for telling me all this, Mac. It couldn’t have been easy to open yourself up like that. Really, thanks.” Her voice melted over his skin, a pleasant warmth taking hold of his senses. It had been difficult, more than difficult, but it was the right thing to do; her response confirmed it. He rewarded himself with the last lick of whiskey his glass contained for a job well done.

“But, uhm…” He was startled by her words.  _ What, was that not enough? Oh gosh, what is she going to say… _ “There’s still something that I really want to know about you, if you’ll let me.”

“What would that be, boss?”  _ Better to act casual. I hope it’s nothing bad. _

“Your name. I would love to know your first name.”

“Oh uhm, sorry. It’s Robert. Well, Robert Joseph. People in the know tend to just call me RJ.”

“Robert Joseph MacCready… It has a really nice ring to it. I like it. Suits you.” Gwendolyn was humming approvingly.

“Hey now, don’t wear it out,” he couldn’t help but chuckle back at the way she glorified his name.

“Aww, come on. Now that I know, I want to call you that as much as I can,” she said amusingly.

“I regret this conversation,” MacCready quipped humorously.

“Do you really? Your shit-eating grin says otherwise.” Gwendolyn had decided to get her face as close to his as possible, observing him with an equally pleased grin on her supple lips. The sudden proximity made MacCready’s cheeks grow even hotter than they already were from the alcohol they had shared together. “Thank you for bearing with my antics,  _ Robert _ .” Her voice had a slightly lustful tone to it, giving him even more trouble. He started to feel his loins heat up at both her closeness and her allure. He had to escape her right now if he wanted to keep a grip on his sanity. Gwendolyn pulled away an instant later, relieving his lascivious anxieties. She returned to his side and let his hand go, to his unconscious dismay. She finished her glass in one gulp, appearing ready to leave him behind as she went back to Sanctuary proper. His body moved by itself, denying him any thinking or reasoning. He had grabbed her arm, his features tortured by need. She must have felt it in his action, stopping her immediately in her tracks.  _ Don’t leave… I don’t want to be alone anymore… _

Gwendolyn looked upon his arm, clearly not knowing what to do with the impulsive grip on her. Or at least, that’s what MacCready thought. Her hazels drifted to his baby blues, shifting from confusion to understanding in their movements. She sat back next to him in silence, looking at the sky above. Feeling that she wouldn’t leave him, he let go of her, a ping of shame and guilt taking over his tipsy mind.  _ What am I doing. Just what am I doing.  _ He alternated between looking at Gwendolyn’s face and his own hands, unsure as to how to proceed. 

Unable to find something to say or do, the both of them simply stared at the blue sky together in silence.

 

********************************

 

Gwendolyn and MacCready regained the house they were using for shelter when the sun started to set over Sanctuary. They had finished the bottle of whiskey before returning in town, keeping up their tipsy buzz into the early evening. MacCready wasn’t drunk but he had a sneaking suspicion that his boss just might be. She had been walking slower than usual, keeping her eyes on the ground in front of her, as if to assess where it was safe for her feet to land. He kept to her pace, ready to catch her if she faltered. The settlers had been eyeing them, either with disdain or asking themselves what the two of them could have been up to all day, something MacCready had not anticipated at all. Were they that pissed that their leader had taken the afternoon for herself? The thought alone made his skin crawl at the implications. The weight of leadership on his boss’s shoulders must have been much greater than she let him know.

“RJ, would you help me a second?”

“What can I do?”  _ That minx. She's already using my first name. _

“I’d really like to take a bath, but these buckets of water are so heavy…”

“On it.”

He lifted the water containers that were being heated over some hot plates with relative ease. He might have been slim and, let’s be honest, a bit scrawny, but he didn’t lack in muscle mass for his size. His inebriated boss was clapping in delectation. Her “antics”, as she had put it earlier, were sometimes grating to MacCready, but he would be lying if he said he didn’t find it refreshing. He slowly filled the bathtub for Gwendolyn, who could barely wait any longer for the warm water to lick her skin. She started to take off her vault suit, revealing more skin than the mercenary was ready to look at.

“Oh come on, Gwen. Can’t you just wait another minute?”

“What, don’t like the show?”  _ Of course I do, you idiot. _

“You’re being so unfair. I’m leaving.”

He closed the bathroom door behind him, leaving Gwendolyn in giggles at his expense. He wished deeply that the bath would alleviate some of her drunkenness. He really didn’t want to be the butt of her jokes any longer for the day. She was always doing her best to make him uncomfortable in the worst of situations when she was under the influence of alcohol. That peculiar behaviour of hers always made him think. Did she notice how her proximity bothered him? Did she notice that her touch made his skin climb in temperature? Probably not. But then again she had been flirting with him for some reason. MacCready really didn’t understand how a woman like  _ her _ could even think of him as more than just… a low life. It made him come back to his thoughts from earlier that same day. 

_ I don't deserve her affection. I don't deserve her care. I don't… I just don't deserve her. _

A voice emanated from the bathroom, singing that same song Gwendolyn had lulled Paladin Danse with when he had his episode. MacCready, curious, sat down on the floor, facing the door that distanced him from his bathing boss. 

_ The other night dear, as I lay sleeping _ _   
_ _ I dreamed I held you in my arms _ _   
_ _ But when I awoke, dear, I was mistaken _ _   
_ __ So I hung my head and I cried

This time, the mercenary was able to fully listen to her charming voice. It wasn't as perfect as Magnolia's but it was still akin to silky honey to his ears. He listened to the lyrics of the song, realizing just how depressingly beautiful they were.

_ You are my sunshine, my only sunshine _ _   
_ _ You make me happy when skies are gray _ _   
_ _ You'll never know dear, how much I love you _ _   
_ __ Please don't take my sunshine away

MacCready was reminded of the pet name Hancock had given his boss. Maybe he knew that song as well. The words were filled with pure love and anguish, a dastardly haunting mix of raw emotions for a lost loved one. He thought that she might be singing of her lost husband, her lost family…

_ I'll always love you and make you happy _ _   
_ _ If you will only say the same _ _   
_ _ But if you leave me and love another _ _   
_ __ You'll regret it all some day

His own sadness started to manifest as his eyes began to tear up. The words of that singing plea stung his heart and his mind, bringing back yet again images of his own lost family. His own misery was similar to Gwendolyn's.  _ Two sides of the same coin. _

_ You are my sunshine, my only sunshine _ _   
_ _ You make me happy when skies are gray _ _   
_ _ You'll never know dear, how much I love you _ _   
_ __ Please don't take my sunshine away

A twisted little part of himself wanted that song from her to be about him, an hymn of love and desire towards him. Gwendolyn was inherently fascinating to him, a sentiment he felt dirty for having. She accepted him and understood him, called him her friend. Could he dare try to get anything more from her?  _ No, you can't take more than you already did. She's given you a job, an income, a friendship, a… A home. She's given you so much and what have you done for her? Nothing.  _

_ You told me once, dear, you really loved me _ _   
_ _ And no one else could come between _ _   
_ _ But now you've left me and love another _ _   
_ __ You have shattered all of my dreams

The songs of the old world had so many romantic layers to them. Anytime he would hear them, he kept being reminded of his solitude and yearning for personal connection. His world was a lonely one, one of dust and dirt and blood. But like a moth to a flame, he couldn't leave Gwendolyn's side, his light in the darkest of days. He had been having more fun at her side than in his entire life since Lucy's passing. If she ever wanted him to leave her, he didn't really know what he would do.

_ You are my sunshine, my only sunshine _ _   
_ _ You make me happy when skies are gray _ _   
_ _ You'll never know dear, how much I love you _ _   
_ __ Please don't take my sunshine away

Sunshine. His sunshine. Could he ever have a sunshine again? Sure he would often try to flirt with women and would constantly be rejected, but he never made a conscious effort to woo someone. Was he even still capable of such a thing? His heart was still imprinted with the memories of Lucy. He still loved her dearly. But he should move on, shouldn't he? His Lucy would want him to be happy again, not a depressed drunken mess like he usually was.

_ In all my dreams, dear, you seem to leave me _ _   
_ _ When I awake my poor heart pains _ _   
_ _ So when you come back and make me happy _ _   
_ __ I'll forgive you dear, I'll take all the blame

Surely Lucy would forgive him if he fell in love again. She always had his back in their hardest days, after all. That lone soul that kept him whole through his hardships. But now she was gone and the only thing still holding him together was their son, Duncan. How long did his little man still have? The last reports he had received of his health status from Daisy's caravan contacts were more than bleak. The blue boils that covered the child's body had grown in size again, ushering the beginning of the end for such a small, young life. Now free of his shackles, MacCready was finally in a position to actually take on Med-Tek. However, the last time he went, there had been a real blood bath and he almost died at the hands of ghouls. 

_ You are my sunshine, my only sunshine _ _   
_ _ You make me happy when skies are gray _ _   
_ _ You'll never know dear, how much I love you _ _   
_ __ Please don't take my sunshine away

As the song came to a close, MacCready's psyche was already at its limit. The silence that Gwendolyn's siren-like voice left behind cursed his soul with the heavy reality of his fucked up life. A single rebel tear escaped the tender blues of his oceanic eye.


	12. Courser Chip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where the gang engages in combat with an Institute asset.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick thank you to my new editor, Charles! Thanks, you're a miracle worker! <3

The first to show up in Sanctuary was Deacon. He had received Gwendolyn's message, which was cryptic at best, and deduced all he needed to know from there. The eccentric spy was cautious yet ecstatic, stating how it would be more than an amazing opportunity to finally learn about the Institute. MacCready guessed that the spy's true objective wasn't to help Gwendolyn in her search for her son but to obtain information on the Institute for the benefit of the Railroad. He made a mental note to keep an eye on Deacon.

The second group to arrive was a minuscule platoon under Preston's control. He had guided Cait, the hot-headed red haired fighter of the Combat Zone, and Mayor John Hancock of Goodneighbor fame to the settlement. Cait made her frustrations audible the moment she stepped foot in Sanctuary, claiming that she was fed up with Gwendolyn's choice to have her babysitted in Diamond City instead of having her on the field. Hancock, meanwhile, remained as nonchalant as usual.

Surprisingly, a third group finally appeared in Sanctuary. Piper Wright, Cait's babysitter and ruthless journalist, was followed by Nick Valentine, synth detective extraordinaire. They strolled into town, rewarded by a stern look from Gwendolyn. Piper declared that she couldn’t pass up the opportunity of witnessing the scoop of a lifetime on the Institute while Nick outright refused to let his freshly thawed protege go into such a dangerous battle by herself. It seemed that her brush with death at the hands of Kellogg followed by her close call in the Glowing Sea had made the synth hesitant to leave Gwendolyn out of his sight. 

Gwendolyn called for a strategic meeting to assign roles to everyone that had decided to join her little operation whether it had been planned or not.

“Alright everyone, settle down. Let’s see how we should approach this. Danse, you’ve been close to the C.I.T. How is the situation out there?”

“My squad and I eliminated the ferals and raiders squatting in the area. We unfortunately did not recon the insides of any of the buildings of interest. However, most structures only have a single entrance that should be fairly simple to secure.”

“Alright, thank you for your report. Now, we all know that Coursers use teleportation to move about. Despite that, I think it would be strategic to set up a group to hold the outside of the C.I.T. Piper, I know you can hold your own but I prefer having you out of harm’s way. I would hate for Nat to be an orphan. You’ll help secure the outside. Preston, Nick, I think you should both assist Piper. Any questions?”

“No problem, General.”

Nick remained silent.

“Well… Alright Blue, if that’s what you think is best.” cautiously answered Piper, displeased to be considered a certain liability.

“Okay, now, for the inside. I suggest we split into two teams. I will lead the first group that will clear the way to the Courser. Hancock, you okay with the rear? I want you to clean up whatever is left behind with Deacon and Cait. Good with you?”

“Done. I’ll leave the big synth to you, Sunshine.”

“No way I'm stayin' out of this one!” interjected Cait in her typical irish accent. “I ain’t gonna do the dirty work when you get all the fun.”

“Cait, please. You’re a little impulsive and I’m going to need to stay level-headed, especially if that Courser decides to strike up a conversation.”

“Ye sure, just talkin’ with the Institute. Ya gotta be out of your fuckin’ mind.”

“Come on Cait, Gwen’s just being careful,” attempted Hancock. “If she needs us, she’ll call. We’re the backup, the big guns. Ain’t that good enough for you?”

“Alright, shite. If Gwenny wants that, I won't argue.”

“Thanks Cait. Now uhm, that leaves MacCready and Danse at my back. You guys think you can handle it?”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” beamed the paladin.

“I got your back, boss,” MacCready answered.

“Ah good! I love having all of you being so obedient.” Gwendolyn laughed loudly at her own comment in unison with most of her friends. “We’re leaving tomorrow morning. Make yourselves comfortable and don’t forget to restock at the barracks. I’ll be in my workshop if you all need anything from me.”

When everyone was dismissed, MacCready stayed behind with Gwendolyn who was furiously clicking at her Pip-Boy, probably entering the details of their upcoming operation for posterity. She looked focused on her task, her tongue sticking out the side of her lips. MacCready, this time, felt more than ready to tackle whatever the world could throw at the both of them. He felt safe by his boss’s side, aware that she would watch his back if need be, just as he would for her. They had both shared and confided in each other, strengthening their bond beyond that of a merc and his client. Actually, they weren’t even in a business partnership anymore since he had given back his rates to her in an attempt to clear his debt towards Gwendolyn after the events at Mass Pike Interchange. He was shaken out of his thoughts by her voice.

“Come with me to my workshop. Got a little something ready for you since Mass Pike.” 

The two of them walked side by side through Sanctuary, being stopped periodically by settlers giving reports or advice as to how the settlement was fairing. Gwendolyn, in such occasions, would put on her usual gentle facade and thank them for their time, referring them to Sturges if they had any issues with anything. The handyman had become somewhat of a connection between Gwen and her population. As much as she intended to look friendly and welcoming, MacCready knew that she was intimidated by the prospect of protecting so many people at once. Like she had made it clear before, becoming the General of the Minutemen had not been her intention at all. She still did the best she could with the title, defending the Commonwealth against raiders, synths, super mutants and ferals. Everyone looked up to her as a hero, a godly presence almost, the protector of farmers and a weapon for the people. In the eyes of most, she wasn’t a grieving widow or an estranged mother but the physical embodiment of a goddess, the savior of the Commonwealth. Living such a life of intense expectations and leadership made MacCready genuinely concerned for his boss.  _ One day, she’s bound to crack and crumble _ , he thought.

Gwendolyn guided him into a small shack filled with metal boxes and workbenches of all kinds. It even sported an empty power armor station and multiple weapon racks where half-finished projects rested. Laser rifles and combat shotguns littered a corner of the room while another had a pile of plasma pistols and revolvers scattered across it. MacCready and his boss let go of their packs by the entrance before stepping into the grease pit itself. Gwendolyn’s old broken blade rested on a shelf to their left with some pipe pistols and rifles. She gestured for the mercenary to approach the weapon racks on the back wall.

“Remember, before Kellogg… I said I’d make you a gun. Well, here it is.” Gwendolyn presented the mercenary with a pristine modded sniper rifle without a scope.

“Aww, you shouldn’t have. Really Gwen, there was no need.”

“Come on, I can’t have my designated sharpshooter going around with this beat up piece of junk,” she chuckled while pointing at his old rifle.

“Alright, you have a point there. Fine, I’ll take it. Let me just put that scope you sneaked in my pack back then on this baby.”

The new gun was a magnificent piece of engineering. It was composed of a .50 caliber receiver, a long ported barrel for maximum range and a low recoil marksman’s stock. The magazine it had was large and it even had a suppressor installed for silent shooting. Now that his previously gifted recon scope was attached, the rifle was a true beauty, one that MacCready felt undeserving of. A small inscription on the stock attracted his attention. The word “Savior” had been carefully carved in the aluminum piece and later painted in yellow.

“Why’d you call it “Savior”, boss?”

“It felt fitting, considering you’re often my savior, RJ.”

“Well, thanks, Gwen. I don’t know what else to say.”

“How about you go test it out? I have some more work to do on my own gear and I can’t imagine that to be the most interesting thing to spectate in the world.” She smiled that usual grin of hers, pushing up her cheeks that had been slowly regaining their glow since her short comma aboard the Prydwen. Since Mass Pike, she had gained back some weight and seemed generally healthier. 

MacCready took the sniper from her to inspect it for himself before taking his leave. Seconds after he closed the door behind him, the sounds of a hammer pounding against metal could be heard. 

 

********************************

 

The small army made their way to the C.I.T. ruins in the better part of a day, leaving them to build up a temporary shelter out of tarps. Their trip had been punctuated by tensions between Paladin Danse, Hancock, Deacon and Nick as well as Gwendolyn’s booming voice telling everyone to “calm the fuck down”. In MacCready's eyes, Danse had a problem or another with everyone in their little company, including himself, and Hancock just loved to use that as his own twisted form of entertainment, prompting glares towards him from both Nick and Preston. Cait and Piper had ignored the men and partook in jovial conversation while MacCready remained at the back of the procession with his boss. Nervousness and anxiety were deeply etched into Gwendolyn’s face. He could easily guess why. Taking on a Courser was already dangerous enough, but the thought of putting her loyal friends in harm’s way and potentially losing them in the battle must have been pure torture for his boss’s bleeding heart. She had already lost so much in so little time, the prospect of losing anything more must have been truly terrifying. He had perched his hand upon her shaky shoulder more than once during their travel to reassure her, almost to promise her that everything would turn out just fine. The young man had spied tears threatening to escape Gwendolyn’s hazel eyes more than once as well as nervous bites to her lips. Still, she would bark orders for everyone to pull their own weight around camp, diligently giving out roles for each one of them in preparation for their assault, like the born leader she was. 

Eventually, the operation began, prompted by a loud click coming from Gwendolyn’s Pip-Boy. Virgil, the Institute scientist that she had encountered in the Glowing Sea, had given her access to a tracking channel on her miniature computer, guiding them towards the entrance of Greenetech Genetics. Preston, Piper and Nick remained outside, securing the location in case of an attack or an escape, while Hancock, Deacon, Cait, MacCready, Danse and Gwendolyn entered, only to be welcomed by Gunner corpses and yells over the intercom. Gunners had also been attempting to take down the Courser, for a reason or another. All the corpses in the way spoke of the frightening strength of the synth.

Danse and Gwendolyn took point while MacCready followed a couple of paces behind them for better coverage with Savior. Hancock’s group stayed behind to search the building and await further orders from their leader. Multiple skirmishes took place between Gwen’s troops and Gunners, which the latter lost spectacularly.  _ Nobody can stand in the way of the boss when she gets her mind on something. She’s worse than a deathclaw. _ After a slow climb among the rubble and the dead, the paladin yelled to get in cover. MacCready, already observing from a safe location, saw what had triggered the violent response in the soldier. A crippled Gunner was pointing a missile launcher at the group. To his horror, Gwendolyn was on an exposed walkway, paralyzed by her paladin’s order, unaware of where to go next.

“Gwen! Run!” desperately screamed MacCready.

“Soldier!” barked Danse. 

But it was already too late for her to move. The Gunner took aim and fired a deadly missile. Terror took hold of MacCready, awaiting to see his only friend evaporated in a fiery blast. He lost his composure and screamed in both anguish and rage, taking aim at the Gunner. A loud explosion shook the catwalk, enveloping it in an infernal blaze. The mercenary pressed the trigger, killing the Gunner that was in the process of reloading his missile launcher. Having nothing to lick, the flames died down quickly. The first thing he saw was the crouched form of Paladin Danse, his power armor seared and charred by the missile’s blast.

“MacCready, take Gwendolyn away, she might have suffered multiple burns,” said Danse under his now useless helmet, it had somehow taken the brunt of the damage along with his leg plating.

Robert ran towards him, pure relief chasing away his rage and anger. Gwendolyn was uncomfortably nestled in the paladin’s metal arms, saved from most of the missile’s payload. He grabbed her body by the shoulders, pulling her from under the armor’s frame. She was coughing and shaking, her face covered in dust and soot. Her vault suit had been slightly damaged, some embers threatening to eat away the smooth leather. MacCready shooed them away with his hand while Gwendolyn caught her breath. In the meantime, Danse took off his busted helmet and crawled to their position, away from the catwalk. One of the armor’s legs had been horribly bent out of shape, crushing the man’s calf beneath, making any form of movement an agonizing experience. The suit finally opened in a hiss of hydraulics and a pop, letting Danse finally move more comfortably. His left leg was a bloody mess, having been cut open by the bent metal of his armor.

“Danse, are you alright? Your leg!” exhaled Gwendolyn, frantically searching her pack for medical supplies.

“I’ll be alright, soldier. Did you get injured?”

“No, no, thanks to you… I'm so sorry, I just froze… Mac, go get Hancock, we can't leave Danse behind like that without support in case more Gunners decide to come around.”

“On it.” MacCready left his two companions to get the backup group. Before disappearing from their view, he turned back to see Gwendolyn treating the paladin's leg with a stimpack and some cloth.

Hancock's group arrived at the scene shortly after. Cait had shown an uncharacteristically motherly concern for Gwen, hugging her and petting her hair. Hancock instructed Deacon to stay behind with the paladin and to take charge while he joined their leader's side. Gwen had also instructed Cait to stay behind to look after her paladin. It was common knowledge that he didn't trust the spy for a second so Gwen had elected to not leave the two alone without supervision. The newly reconstituted group left the injured man in pursuit of their target.

Hancock, Gwendolyn and MacCready made it to what seemed like some sort of reactor room when piercing shrieks were heard from above. The Courser was calmly torturing some Gunners for information, killing without mercy when he figured the soldiers wouldn't answer. A flight of stairs separated Gwendolyn from her target, a single flight of stairs, but she looked unsure and unwilling to continue. Hancock tried to bolster her resolve with a friendly hand on her back. She took slow and silent steps, preparing herself for the encounter she had been both dreading and looking forward to for the better part of her new life in the Commonwealth. The answer to finding the Institute and her son awaited her.

A smooth, attractive masculine voice echoed from the room the Courser was in.

“Are you here for the synth?”

Shock spread in Gwendolyn’s body. Despite her best efforts, the Courser had easily found out and identified her, despite not even looking towards the stairwell. The synth was observing a locked room containing a frightened woman.

“We’re here for you, tin can!” snarled Hancock.

“I'm here to kill you and take what's inside your head.” sternly answered Gwendolyn, her resolve coming back to her due to Hancock’s support.

“That you cannot have. You'll die like the rest of them.”

The Courser lifted his Institute laser pistol and shot at Gwendolyn before activating a Stealth Boy. Hancock dragged Gwen to the ground to avoid the blue arrow. The two of them pulled out their respective double barrel shotguns and started to follow the directions of the Courser’s lasers. MacCready tried his best to offer support, firing his sniper rifle from the safety of the stairwell.

“You're done!” yelled Hancock.

A loud shotgun shot rang and a splash of blood erupted from the shimmering form of the cloaked Courser. It didn’t deter the synth in the slightest, bolts of blue soaring from his position towards Hancock. What did pause the Courser’s onslaught was a well-placed swing from Gwendolyn. In her frustration, she had gripped her shotgun like a baseball bat and haphazardly swung it towards her target. The Stealth Boy stopped functioning, revealing the synth wearing a long black armored coat coat. MacCready seized the opportunity and fired, aiming for the synth’s head. The Courser mostly avoided the shot, the bullet grazing the side of his head. He was able to move at an uncommon speed, reminding the mercenary of his encounter with Kellogg. The Institute must have used a similar technology on their Coursers. Gwendolyn yelped, receiving an uppercut in her jaw from the synth, hitting her with his pistol. She stumbled backwards, at the Courser’s mercy, before Hancock attracted their attacker’s attention with a well-placed shot of his own. The three of them stayed locked in an exchange of hits and shots, no side making much headway on the other. The synth was expertly tiring out his opponents one step at a time. MacCready knew it wouldn’t end well if he couldn’t afford his boss an opportunity. 

_ Deep breath. Aim for the shooting hand. _ The bullet pierced the Courser’s wrist, a geyser of blood sprouting from the now disarmed man. The Courser had made the hopefully fatal mistake of leaving himself exposed to the sniper while he was busy with Gwendolyn’s rabid sword swings. She had eventually thrown her shotgun aside to gain a little more agility, pulling out her shishkebab instead. Her flaming blade struck the Courser’s shoulder, cutting through leather and skin alike. In defiance, the synth grabbed the blazing sword by its blade, pulling it savagely out of both his shoulder and Gwendolyn’s grip. He was stronger than a regular human being by leaps and bounds, surprising his three assailants. His undamaged hand grabbed Gwen by the face, launching her into a wall. Her left shoulder smacked against the concrete, a popping sound indicating that it had just dislocated. Hancock went feral, jumping on the Courser to plunge his shotgun in any tender flesh he could find. He fired point blank into the synth’s chest, blood and viscerae splattering themselves onto his red coat. Somehow still alive and able to move, his opponent sent out a sharp kick which connected with Hancock’s torso, sending him flying back. The synth stood on unstable legs, turning his attention back to Gwendolyn who had also 

found her way back to her feet. She wielded her normally concealed switchblade, menacingly grimacing at the Courser. The two ran at each other, the synth aiming for her throat while she aimed for his head. The knife found its way into the Courser’s cheek while his large hand found purchase around Gwendolyn’s neck. He pressed his palm and fingers as deeply as possible in the woman’s throat, intending to strangle her to death. Hancock was still struggling to pull himself up, leaving only MacCready to defend their leader. Her eyes were already rolling in the back of her head, froth escaping her lips. Before long, she would lose consciousness. The mercenary took aim and fired, his bullet finding its way into the synth’s right ear. The Courser slumped to the ground, finally dead.

Gwendolyn desperately gasped for air, her neck already starting to bruise from the strangulation she had suffered. MacCready sprinted towards her, taking her shaking body in his arms. She pressed her face into his shoulder, coughs slowly dying down in the fabric of his duster. Hancock spat on the synth’s corpse, disdain and anger legible on his cadaverous face. He had suffered a couple of burns from his attacker’s laser pistol but nothing too serious. By the time Gwendolyn’s lungs were able to fill themselves with air again without causing her to wince, she had latched her good arm around MacCready’s neck, sobbing. He imagined it was probably due to the pain of her dislocated shoulder but he reminded himself that taking down this Courser was supposed to be the last step in finding her kidnapped son. A small voice was heard when everyone had finally settled down from the fighting.

“Please, get me out of here. The password is in the box under the stairs. I'm forced to trust you on this so don't make me regret it.”

The petite woman hiding out in the small adjacent locked room had finally decided to speak up. She obviously regarded Gwendolyn and her crew as her potential saviors. At her request, Gwen had gotten up and pulled a holotape from the box under the stairs, opening the door separating her from the other woman through the terminal that controlled the magnetic lock and kept it firmly closed.

“Thank you so much… My designation is K1-98 but I prefer Jenny. I won’t ask for your help getting out of here, I can do it on my own. After all, I need to learn to survive this wasteland.”

“You headed for the Railroad?” asked Gwendolyn as casually as possible.

“H-how? Do you know them?”

“Yeah, yeah. Got a high ranking Railroad agent with me right now actually. He’ll help you get situated in one of their safehouses. How does that sound, Jenny?”

“I-I can’t ask that from yo-” Gwendolyn interrupted the synth woman. MacCready’s boss called out to Deacon who appeared quickly afterwards.

“Dee, take this sweetheart, Jenny, to one of your safehouses. The Courser and the Gunners were trying to get to her. I’m sure Desdemona won’t mind a new rescue, right?”

“Right you are, boss. Come on, follow me miss.”

Deacon and Jenny left the room by taking an elevator. Hancock seemed pleased at Gwendolyn’s willingness to help out someone in need. Like he always said: “If someone needs help, we help 'em. If someone needs hurtin', we hurt 'em. It's not hard.” It reminded MacCready that, although the ghoul mayor was dangerous and even sadistic at times, he would never hurt the undeserving. Gwendolyn perched herself over the Courser’s corpse, a frown etched into her face. 

“Might want to turn around for this, Mac. Can’t believe I have to search another brain in so little time.”

“Ya gotta do what ya gotta do, sister,” quipped Hancock.

As promised, Gwendolyn dipped her hand in yet another brain. She used the entry hole of MacCready’s final blow to search the tender grey matter for the Courser’s chip, a piece of Institute technology that was seemingly responsible for their ability to teleport. She extracted what looked like a light bulb containing some sort of metallic cube. Contrary to his experience with Kellogg, MacCready didn’t feel as nauseous this time around.  _ Can’t believe I’m getting used to this… _

“Well, I'll be damned. I never knew that those Coursers came with a free prize,” said MacCready, fascinated by the extracted device.

“Sunshine, we should get outta here. Want me to get the others?”

“If you wouldn’t mind, John.”

With Hancock gone, Gwendolyn turned towards MacCready.

“Welp, back in the Glowing Sea I go. I have an extra power armor this time around so… Wanna go in there with me?”

“Who’s gonna watch your back in there if I don’t?” grinned MacCready.

He was rewarded with an equally smug smile.


	13. Tunnel Snakes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where MacCready meets the Railroad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was told by friends to make a tumblr for this. Here it is if you want to check it out, ask me stuff, post stuff or what have you.  
> https://mastorya.tumblr.com

After the events at Greenetech Genetics, Gwendolyn reassembled her team in the Cambridge Police Station, somehow convincing Paladin Danse to let a gang of misfits including a known synth and a ghoul into his abode. The paladin’s authority had been more than enough to convince his assisting officers to not start a firefight with the ragtag band when they entered the militarized compound, despite obvious judgemental stares and the deathly silence that followed their arrival. Gwen had expressed how grateful she was for Danse’s trust in her and her friends, the soldier replying with a strict yet warm acknowledgement. The fanatic Brotherhood of Steel soldier had definitely been changing for the better while in the vicinity of his boss, MacCready thought. Due to his injury, Gwendolyn refused to take Danse with her in her next adventure, entrusting the man to the care of Scribe Haylen. Hancock, Cait, Preston and Piper were dismissed with no particular objective in mind, and to everyone’s surprise, they all decided to await the return of their brave leader back in Sanctuary. This left Nick, MacCready and Gwendolyn to wait for their fourth party member, Deacon, to make his way to Cambridge.

The three companions had been given one of the unused rooms of the Police station to rest, a room that was previously much bigger until part of the second floor caved into it. It was originally filled with debris the last time MacCready had been in the station, but it had been cleaned except for the cave in, making it a small spare room. Nick took place on an old chair facing away from an equally old desk while Gwendolyn plopped down on the ground to lean on her pack. MacCready felt somehow uneasy in the station despite this being his third time there, opting to place himself on the back wall of the room, facing the entryway. His boss was absentmindedly stroking her freshly reset shoulder, a task that Cait had carried out the moment she had laid eyes on Gwendolyn back in Greenetech. The woman’s gaze was locked in space, lost in thoughts. Nick had previously reminded Gwen that she needed to get the chip analysed before going back into the Glowing Sea, a task MacCready thought only Deacon and the Railroad would really be able to do. The Courser chip, being advanced Institute technology, would probably be understood by the only group actively researching the nebulous organization. Since then, his boss had been in somewhat of a trance, her eyes unfocused and her posture slumped, lacking her usual confidence. There had to be something about the Railroad that Gwendolyn had problems with, that’s for sure.

Four hours later, Deacon showed up in Cambridge, his casual attitude a breeze of fresh air in the increasingly gloomy and suffocating room the misfits shared in the police station. Whatever Gwendolyn had been ruminating was somehow enveloping her and her friends in a dark mist. Nick had remained mostly silent, his yellow neons darting from Gwen to a notepad he had produced from his faded trench coat, taking notes on who knows what, while MacCready’s own uneasiness ate away at his resolve to follow his boss anywhere she pleased. _Something’s not right. I don’t know what but something really isn’t going as planned. Gwen wouldn’t be like this if there was no problem…_

The next morning, they set out for the Railroad HQ, a long trek that would make them walk into supermutant infested areas. Through clever stealth, they were able to avoid most of them while contouring Cambridge Campus and Monsignor Plaza. Unfortunately, MacCready spotted a super mutant raiding party escorting two tied up settlers near the bridge that would take them through Cabot house and into Railroad territory. Gwendolyn, the grand hero that she was, ordered her platoon to get in formation, planning a daring rescue of the captured civilians.

“Nick, on me, MacCready, stay back. Deacon, take the flank.”

“Sure, works for me,” answered the spy with a shrug.

“Alright, see ya on the other side, RJ. Let’s get those greenskins,” whispered Gwendolyn, a scary looking grin twisting her features. She was ready for a real bloodbath.

“Cocked, locked and ready to rock, boss.”

MacCready laid himself down on a nearby hill, hiding himself in the tall grass. Through his scope, he observed the group of super mutants. The six of them were completely unaware of their impending doom at the hand of the humans they hated so much. Two of the mutants wielded submachine guns while one had a minigun at the ready. The other three only had long boards as their only protection. _Not too hard as long as Gwen is careful about this. But when is she ever careful…_

On cue, one of the mutants received a rock on the back of its head. The affected enemy was none other than the one sporting an impressive if not hazardous looking minigun on his arm. Distracted, the mutant left the safety of the party’s formation to investigate the mineral assault it had been a victim of. When the mutant seemed confused and frustrated at its lack of answers, MacCready took a deep breath and fired, his bullet hitting his target in the left eye. The backplate of the mutant’s cranium exploded in a deluge of gore and blood, prompting the body to slump to the ground. The familiar sound of machine guns preparing to fire cut through the silence left by the gruesome death. The attack had officially begun.

Blue bolts hit the first submachine gun wielding super mutant from the right, lasers produced by Deacon’s Institute rifle, who had remained at a fair distance from his targets. On the left flank, Gwendolyn approached the other mutant equipped with a gun, her double barrel shotgun at the ready. The recognizable crack of the slugs escaping their respective barrels pierced the breeze. The shots injured the mutant’s right shoulder without deterring it from squeezing the trigger of his automatic weapon. A flurry of bullets erupted from the firearm, forcing Gwendolyn to retreat in a roll to her left. Nick, that had been evasively moving up to his fleshy friend, fired his revolver, discharging his bullets into the firing mutant. The split in the mutant’s attention drew a loud grunt from its belly, raving about this being the age of super mutants or another ridiculous delusion. At the same time, Deacon had managed to take down his own mutant, the body disintegrating in blue ashes pushed aside by the wind. Finally aware that their companions wouldn’t be enough to dispatch the pesky humans messing with them, the three melee mutants entered the fray, two going towards Nick Valentine, the other running towards Deacon.

A battle cry escaped Gwendolyn’s lips when her shotgun clicked closed, reloaded and ready to eradicate the approaching greenskins. Two more loud shots put down the gunning mutant while a melee attacker readied a swing on Gwendolyn. MacCready felt his heart rate accelerate, fear of what the hit would do to his boss plaguing his mind and his body. He fired an uncertain shot, the bullet missing its mark due to his shaking hands. He had just failed his boss tenfold, leaving her unprotected from a savage mutant ready to crush her skull with a carved plank of heavy wood. His unspoken prayer for her safety was answered when the weapon ready to injure or even kill Gwendolyn was stopped by the skeletal metallic hand of Nick that had managed to put himself between the boss and the mutant in record time. The two were operating in sync, watching each other's back in tandem. Gwen upholstered her 10mm pistol, unloading her entire large clip into the mutant’s face, the large creature becoming inert, dead.

MacCready’s attention was diverted from his boss back to Deacon’s position. The spy was evading a mutant of his own, the wood swinging dangerously close to his body. Deacon looked somewhat in distress, probably not used to close quarters combat since he was usually working out of the shadows.

“Everyone stop. I got a splinter,” cried out Deacon when the board got ridiculously close to his legs.

Somehow, the mutant was confused at the taunt, making it slow its attack ever so slightly, an opportunity that Deacon seized immediately. An onslaught of blue lasers escaped his rifle, burning the mutant to a crisp.

MacCready brought his eyes back to his boss that was in a stalemate against the last mutant still standing. Nick was on the ground, trying to reach for his revolver that had somehow landed in between the woman and the super mutant. Gwendolyn had unsheathed her shishkebab, locked in a battle of strength and will with the mutant’s board. Of course, a mutant was much stronger than any man but, for some reason, it wasn’t ready to crush its enemy. Its green features displayed a disgusting smile, sadism rolling off its entire body.

“I'm going to eat your arms when you're dead, human!” screamed the mutant. “Stupid lady! You die now, human! Ha ha ha ha ha!”

The now inflamed board swatted away Gwendolyn’s blade with ease, rendering her helpless. MacCready tried to line up a shot but both his boss and the mutant were now moving faster than ever, Gwendolyn evading as best she could all the flaming swings coming her way, the mutant retaliating by running around her to gain the advantage. Nick had finally grabbed his previously unobtainable revolver, pointing it at the mutant. The trigger was clicked but no bullets were shot. MacCready took a shot, hitting the mutant in its armored shoulder with next to no effect despite the high caliber bullets that Savior used. The blazing piece of wood finally came down on Gwendolyn, a hit that she barely blocked with the PipBoy on her arm, saving her skin and clothing from the inferno that was menacing her.

“Just... stand... still!” yelled out the mutant in anger. “Hurry up and die! I'm hungry! Ha ha ha ha ha!“

“Not so fast, pal! Leave my favorite meat shield alone!” boomed Deacon in response, readying his laser rifle once more.

Two bolts seared the green fleshy back of the mutant, prompting some yelps of pain from the creature. It gave a big enough window to allow Gwendolyn to jump away from the mutant and start to upholster her 10mm pistol yet again. MacCready shot first however, finally killing the mutant.

“We live to fight another day. And night. And day. Et cetera.”

“Thanks for the input, Deacon. Care to help an old synth up?” quipped Nick in response.

MacCready got himself down from his sniper’s perch, rewarded by a toothy smile and a thumbs up from Gwendolyn. As was the norm for him, he felt undeserving of her praise, especially considering he had missed a few crucial shots because of his own emotions. In his career as a mercenary, he had never felt so emotionally compromised. He was supposed to almost be robotic in his approach, taking shots left and right with no hesitation or remorse, but every time he would see his boss in danger, voices burst from within him, screaming for him to act, and that explosion of anxious thoughts kept paralyzing him. He lifted his eyes to meet Gwendolyn’s, her happy disposition melting instantly in one of concern. She tried to reach for MacCready with an unsure hand, gesture that the young man swatted away by turning his head to the side, breaking their eye contact. He couldn’t understand why or how she could always read him so perfectly, always somehow knowing what was going on within his internal turmoil. It was unsettling to say the least.

Gwendolyn went over to the two settlers, untying their bonds and offering them a new place to stay at one of the multiple minutemen camps spread across the region. The way she moved looked uncomfortable, her arms swinging weirdly at her side. Both her injured shoulder and the arm that received the vicious hit from the super mutant must have been terribly painful. Now that MacCready had the time to take a better look at her, he noticed that she had lost weight yet again, body mass she had just obtained again. Her skin was pale, practically transparent, her veins horribly visible. Her eyes were sunken in their sockets and lacked their spark. That must have been what Nick Valentine had observed in their leader since he was being so insistent on tagging along. Had he been taking notes on her health back at the police station?

Their rescue completed, the group made their way to the Old North Church which served as the Railroad’s HQ. The church was mostly destroyed, rubble piled to the rotten ceiling alongside destroyed pews and a collapsed mezzanine. The ground was littered with the corpses of feral ghouls, the stench of which was utterly repulsive. Gwendolyn led them to a small stairway, hidden away behind some broken down wood that opened into a dank catacomb. The moldy air and the rift between MacCready and his boss pushed the mercenary to try to lighten the mood the only way he knew how, that is with eye-roll worthy jokes and comments.

“TUNNEL SNAKES RULE!”

A stunned silence followed. Everyone turned to stare at him, wide eyed and slack jawed, that is until a chuckle illuminated Gwendolyn’s features. It quickly grew to a full laugh, eyes tearing up from the hilarity she had perceived. MacCready laughed in harmony with her.

“Sorry, heard that a long time ago.”

“Where? What was that about?” asked Gwen through her fit of laughter.

“Back in the Capital Wastes, there was this gang... and they would scream that as many times as possible.”

“My turn then, lemme try! TUNNEL SNAKES RULE!”

Gwendolyn threw her fists in the air, bellowing the phrase a couple of times before breaking down in girlish laughter yet again. Her breath drew short, prompting her to clutch at the wall near her. Nick Valentine had observed the scene in silence, yellow eyes ever so observant, scrutinizing both MacCready and his boss. Deacon, for his part, wore his casual smile, true intentions and thoughts safely hidden behind his sunglasses.

“Well that happened,” he sighed in disbelief. “I just love how you both like to make as much noise as possible. Please, do alert everyone to our presence.”

“Right, right, sorry Dee. I’ll shut up,” sheepishly answered Gwendolyn through muffled chuckles.

 

********************************

 

“I have a report here. It reads more like a comic book. Apparently, one hell of a fight took place at Greenetech Genetics.”

Desdemona, the leader of the Railroad, had her nose buried in a report. The woman looked aged and tired, dark circles swallowing her eyes. Her perfectly styled chestnut shoulder length hair contrasted with the bleak catacombs she was in. Despite her comment, she looked less than amused, her frown forming lines along her forehead. She was usually serious and direct both with her orders and her questions. The fact that she was currently using such a strange indirect approach definitely betrayed how suspicious she was of Gwendolyn, who decided to act coy.

“Oh? What have you heard?”

“One of our agents took a Courser. Alone. Something I'm not even sure Glory could do. And that agent is you. I'm all for one less Courser in the world but why'd you do it?”

“First of all, I wasn’t alone. I had my personal army with me.” Gwendolyn pointed towards Nick and MacCready that were being observed by the Railroad operatives in the large open room that served as their base of operations. “And all I needed was a Courser chip. So, there, merry Christmas. Do you think Tinker Tom could get it analysed?”

“You have one of their chips? Intact? Follow me. Now.”

Desdemona, stern as always, guided Gwendolyn to a terminal where a tall man that wore a hat adorned of the strangest apparatus Robert had ever seen was working. His gestures were erratic, a paranoid look penetrating every single thing he looked at, making MacCready more than uncomfortable with his presence. The mercenary had dared move, approaching Gwendolyn as if looking for her reassuring presence in the hostile environment. The Railroad was a small secretive organization but they did have impressive fighters and assassins in their ranks, such as the enigmatic Deacon. Nick had remained on the sidelines, probably not threatened by the agents surrounding him since he was a synth. The Railroad, after all, were all about saving and protecting his kind.

“Decoding a Courser Chip is a very delicate operation. A million things can go wrong - the least of which is losing the data. Fortunately, we have the right man for the job.”

“Hey, Dez. You need something?” asked the strange man, whom MacCready guessed was Tinker Tom.

“Tom, we got a Courser Chip.”

“Whoa? For real? Oh man, it's been ages.”

“You've hit the jackpot with this. Ready to hand over that chip, agent? Let's see if we can get that code you need and help out the organization at the same time,” simply asked Desdemona, a rare smile curling her lips.

For the next ten minutes, Tom executed his task while talking to the chip and the terminal he used to decode it. Gwendolyn observed the man the whole time, a mix of curiosity and apprehension visible on her face. She was handed a holotape containing the coveted code by Tom who was more than proud of his work. The tape now in her possession, Gwendolyn was more than ready to exit the musky underground lair. Deacon excused himself, practically getting his ear pulled by Glory, a synth woman with ebony skin and crisp silver hair. The spy had definitely neglected to fill out his paperwork again, Gwen had mentioned to MacCready under her breath. After a pleasant yet somber conversation with Desdemona, the mercenary’s boss dragged her companions out of the church. Nobody dared speak until Nick Valentine broke the silence when they entered Goodneighbor, the closest and relatively safest town to the Railroad HQ.

“I’m not one to rain on a parade but we need to talk, doll. Have you slept or ate in the last couple of days?”

“Can’t hide anything from the only detective in the Commonwealth, can I?” answered Gwendolyn with a shrug.

“I know what it feels like to be consumed by vengeance and what having a friend in all of it is like. After all, you did help me take down Eddie Winter and kept me grounded through it all. So, I only ask that you listen to me as your friend. You need to slow down. You’re killing yourself and it won’t do any good to your kid if you die before getting him back.”

“I-I just can’t. I lost ten years with Shaun and now, with this holotape, I have a real chance of getting to him. I can’t wait any longer than this! I dare not even imagine what the Institute is doing to my angel…”

“You won’t be able to save him or anyone if you don’t at least take care of yourself first, Gwendolyn.”

“Sheesh Nick, I know you’re right but my only purpose in this nightmare of a world is to find my son. I can’t just press pause on that. I have to get to him.”

“Listen, doll. We’ll get your son back. I promised you that back in my office in Diamond City two months ago and I’m not about to go back on my word. Just take some days off, gather your strength. You won’t be much more than an insect to the Institute if you go knock on their door looking like Death itself.”

“I-”

“Boss,” interjected MacCready who shared the synth’s concerns. “We have to plan for the Glowing Sea anyways. Let’s just hang our hats for a little while, okay?”

“Mac… ugh. Fine. I’ll call Hancock on the radio, ask if we can crash in his quarters for the week. Happy now?”

“Don’t be like that, Gwen,” sternly scolded Nick. “We’re friends. We have to look out for each other. And if that includes cuffing you to a radiator in a room full of food and pillows, then you can be sure this old detective will oblige.”

Gwendolyn chuckled while readying the small radio that Preston had given to her back in Cambridge in case she needed him for anything else. A call later, the three of them walked into the Old State House. Farenheit, Hancock’s bodyguard, was on a ham radio, receiving orders from her superior to let Gwendolyn and her companions use his grand mayoral building for whatever and however long they needed. The temperamental woman clicked her tongue before giving her approval to Hancock over the airways. She remained in the edifice, observing the group from afar.

“Hey boss, how about I go get us something from the Third Rail? Any preference?”

“You’re offering? What a gentleman you are, RJ. Bring in anything but bloatfly, I can’t stomach those freaky bugs… Oh and two bottles of their best whiskey.”

“Gee, Gwen, I’m not that rich you know,” laughed the mercenary, looking through his pack for his cap pouch.

“Fine, fine, just grab my caps and go to town. Just be sure to bring as much booze as possible!”

He executed himself, pulling Gwendolyn’s generous cap stash from her bag that laid at his feet. She was already laying down on one of the red couches, feet up on one arm, her head on a pillow. Nick, being a mechanical synth, did not require sleep or food in any way so he simply remained silent, dragging on his cigarette, his back to a wall. The mercenary was hushed out of the room by his boss, repeating that he needed to bring as much alcohol as he could carry back with him or she’d have him punished. MacCready couldn’t even begin to imagine what such punishment would involve and left the room they had set themselves in, closing the large double doors behind him. He began to walk towards the spiral staircase in the middle of the floor when Gwendolyn’s voice rang out in the dusty air.

“Nick, I’m scared.”

“Don’t be, doll, it’ll be alright.”

“But what if… What if they did horrible things to Shaun? What if he hates me? What if… he’s dead?”

“Kellogg’s memories showed a carefree little boy and he was in Diamond city two or three months before you stumbled into that damn Vault I was trapped in so I’m fairly certain your kid is alright.”

“I just… every minute that I waste not looking for a way to get into the Institute just makes me more worried and afraid. They stole my son, they destroyed my family…”

“And we’ll get him back and you’ll be a happy family again. Don’t lose hope now.”

“I was thinking… if Shaun is somehow beyond help, what am I supposed to do? My life won’t have meaning anymore…”

“Gwen, you’re the one that told me that life is what you make of it. I felt just as lost as you are after Winter bit the dust and the last trace of the old Nick disappeared from this world. But you told me over and over again that I was my own person… I came to realize that all the good we did in the world while working together were my own and my purpose. If anything goes wrong with the Institute, you’ll always have your friends around you to hold you up and protect you. Your life will still have meaning. We need you. We love you. Without you, I wouldn’t be alive right now, or whatever the equivalent for a synth like me is supposed to be.”

“You are alive, Nick, don’t try to deny your own sentience again.”

“Perhaps. Just don’t you go and try to deny that your life has meaning again.”

“You sly, sly detective! Using my own words against me like that. You are getting more devious by the day, Valentine!”

“What can I say, I learned from the best.”

Gwendolyn chuckled then let out a long sigh. “I just hope Shaun is alright…”

“I’m sure he is, doll. I’m sure he is.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for being a day late on uploading! University work got the better of me this week.
> 
> I'm not aware of if you guys get notifications or not, but I've been going back onto older chapters to correct them along with my new editor ( thanks again Charles!! <3 ). That said, I have no clue if you guys get notifications every time I make any changes. If you do, I'm really sorry! D':


	14. Armored Escapade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where they plunge head first into the Glowing Sea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick reminder that I created a tumblr for this fanfic.  
> You can find it right here: https://mastorya.tumblr.com
> 
> I'm currently looking for sexy, cute, funny, sad, depressing prompts for some quick blurbs on MacCready and Gwen to satiate you, readers, in the lull in content that will probably happen in between the end of Part 1 and the beginning of Part 2 of Whispers and Bullets. If you have some ideas or requests, please post them in the comments or on my tumblr. 
> 
> Also, if you have any questions, comments, or anything else you want to send my way, you can do that on my tumblr or in the comments bellow. 
> 
> For those that actually read this note in its entirety, here's a little treat. Part 1: The Blessed Flames should have 23 chapters and an epilogue. I'm not 100% sure but it sure does look that way! And don't worry, the romance is getting real.

During the following week, Gwendolyn and her mercenary indulged in copious amounts of alcohol and luxury foods, creating a truly abysmal hole in her finances. It was no secret that she was wealthy, fortune she made through merc work, scavenging and settlement management. After spending almost three thousand caps at the Third Rail however, her cap purse was finally reaching its bottom. Hancock had decided to join the party animals in his town since he was always one for such extravagant and depraved events. MacCready had caught the ghoul peddling some Jet to Gwendolyn, giving her a couple of inhalers on the house. Normally, he wouldn’t even care about trivial business such as this, but he had a nagging feeling in the back of his mind that his boss should steer as clear as possible from chem use. They were good to stave off tragic thoughts while being viciously addictive, a terrible combination in the hands of the tortured and grieving like himself and his boss. He was relieved to see Gwendolyn wearily accept the Jet and immediately stash it away instead of indulging in the gaseous chem.

Nick Valentine had been keen on staying behind with his protege in Goodneighbor. Gwendolyn had become some sort of a junior detective at his side, taking care of the bizarre case of Doc Crocker, a facial reconstruction surgeon that, despite his mostly normal and professional outward appearance, had become completely manic in his self preservation and dismembered the corpse of Earl Sterling, an unfortunate client that had died in the care of the physician. MacCready was more than curious about his boss’s many adventures in the Commonwealth since she had emerged from her vault. She had kept herself incredibly busy in the short three months since her “arrival”, going from one offbeat quest to another. Of course, Robert wasn’t blind to the fact that she was most likely doing so to not drown in grief, doubt and guilt, something he had also been doing since Lucy’s death. Either way, it took about an hour of arguing to convince the old synth to let Gwendolyn leave for the most irradiated zone in the Commonwealth without him. For some reason MacCready couldn’t understand, she was completely against bringing anyone else with her. Nick would be completely unaffected by the radiation, yet she refused to have him along for the ride. Now, considering that Hancock had almost died the last time the two were on the trail of Doctor Virgil, Robert could definitely understand why she’d leave the ghoul behind this time around but that could not explain her reticence in accepting the services of Nick Valentine. Should he feel lucky that he was able to earn Gwendolyn’s trust as much as he had or should he be concerned and irritated that she had instead deemed him expendable enough to bring with her? _She called me a friend and helped me out. Surely, she doesn’t think of me as cannon fodder, right?_

Ready to head into the Glowing Sea to meet with Doctor Virgil yet again after her forced vacation, Gwendolyn showed off her connection with the Brotherhood of Steel to her companions, ordering a Vertibird to pick them up using a special electromagnetic smoke grenade she had received from Elder Maxson himself, possibly after her coma episode aboard the Prydwen. _Hooking up with the Brotherhood sure has its advantages, doesn’t it._ The young Elder, in MacCready’s mind, must have felt irked from almost losing his Knight in the Glowing Sea. Like Gwen had explained, she was his only chance to get into the Institute, the reason for Maxson’s arrival in the Commonwealth. Losing her meant greatly delaying or even losing the war against the synth producing organization, something he probably simply couldn’t afford.

“You look a little nervous, Mac. Scared of flying?”

“Oh, no boss. It’s not the flying that makes me nervous, it’s the crashing part.”

“It is a possibility, but I tend to trust the Brotherhood Lancers. They do know how to fly these things like champs.”

“Thank you for the vote of confidence, Knight,” beamed the pilot. “Where to?”

“Sanctuary. We won’t be long, just need to hop into some Power armor then I’d be grateful if you flew us to the edge of the Glowing Sea. Would that be alright, Lancer?”

“Alright ma’am. Get strapped in, we’re taking off.”

The vertibird’s engine pushed the flying machine off the ground with ease, only causing a minute tremor in its cockpit. Just the thought of being off the ground, however, triggered nausea in MacCready. Somehow, Gwendolyn had an idea of his plight, handing him a can of purified water from within her pack. She smiled at him when he accepted the can, her eyes softening into a delightful sight for the mercenary. All the meals and time they had taken back in Goodneighbor had truly helped the woman, giving her back her curvaceous hips and perky cheeks. He found himself truly glad to see her in better health.

In Sanctuary, Gwendolyn guided MacCready to a supply shed adjacent to some Power armor stations. One of them contained an old looking suit in good condition while the other had a brand new looking Brotherhood of Steel suit. Gwendolyn hopped in the Brotherhood branded T-60 power armor after showing MacCready to the T-51 suit next to her which was meant for him. The mercenary opened the suit with a swift rotation of its valve, releasing multiple hydraulics in the process. The suit opened like a boiling mirelurk, each individual protective plate unfolding for its eventual wearer. Robert stepped into the metal shell, letting it swallow him whole in its grasp. While he loved the idea of being an unstoppable force within the Power armor, such equipment made it next to impossible to sneak undetected by foes. This would definitely hinder his sniping abilities in favor of dramatically increased radiation resistance, a fair trade-off when it comes to surviving the Glowing Sea.

Back in the vertibird, MacCready felt less motion sickness overpowering him, probably because the Power Armor he wore shielded him for the flying machine’s vibrations and tremors. Beside him, Gwendolyn looked at the horizon with a spark of life in her eyes like no other. Her helmet was carefully nestled under her armored arm, letting her brown locks whip in the wind. Her hair was untied for the first time since the mercenary had met the vaultie, displaying it in all of its golden butterscotch glory. It shimmered and shined in the sun, dazzling sparkles betraying Gwendolyn’s youth. In this precious fleeting moment, the woman was a true symbol of adventure and childlike wonder, her delighted expression growing ever so happily with each passing minute, her gaze fixed on the beauty she saw in the destroyed world below. _I wish I could still look at things the way she does. She seems so happy right now…_ Her smile faded when the vertibird approached the Glowing Sea. The lifeless crater of pure despair spread its toxicity beyond them, testament of the war and all the death that came from it. Gwendolyn quickly slotted her helmet back on as they arrived at the ground zero of the Commonwealth's downfall.

MacCready's armored boots hit the ashy soil below, dust rising above his ankles in the process. The Brotherhood vertibird had landed within the border of the Glowing Sea, a circle of dead stumps and shrubs exhibiting the extent of the radioactive devastation that befell the world. Gwendolyn took point, her shotgun in hand. Most of her belongings including her shishkebab had been stashed in an old dufflebag flung over her armored shoulder. The mercenary had done much of the same, his bag filled with food, water and ammo. His weapon, Savior, was pressed against his metallic torso in anticipation of any battle ahead.

“This is it… the butthole of the world.”

“It really is just a disgusting butt, boss. So, what's the plan?”

“I want you to stick to me like glue and to execute whatever order I give you. It'll probably be the difference between life or death in there so please promise to follow what I say.”

“Cross my heart,” MacCready gestured.

“Good. For now, we just need to get over as much terrain as possible. Hopefully we'll find a cave to sleep into somewhere in there. Let's go and keep your wits sharp.”

“Will do, boss. Let's get this show on the road.”

 

********************************

 

The first day of their travels ended in a small cave system under a downed airplane. Bruises were had when they both barreled down a slope after being ambushed by two hunter radscorpions. The mutated arachnids had sprung from under MacCready's feet, making him topple onto Gwendolyn who subsequently lost her balance. Fortunately, the two of them fell in a small irradiated swamp, deterring their assailants from continuing their attack.

Within the small cave, Gwendolyn hopped out of her power armor after both of their geiger counters indicated that they were somehow deep enough within the earth to save themselves from radiation. For his part, MacCready was more reluctant to exit his protective shell, deciding to only remove his helmet for the moment.

“I gotta be honest with you, I feel more comfortable with a rocky ceiling above my head.”

Gwendolyn gave him a knowing look. “Little Lamplight?”

“Yeah… caves just feel safe since then. It's gotta be, right? You know, with all the rocks and stuff.”

“I get where you're coming from with that. To me, it just feels claustrophobic. Almost like the walls are closing in… It-it reminds me of the vault.”

“Hey, I'm sorry, Gwen. Didn't mean to make you think about that.”

“No, no, it's okay. Let me see if I can find enough kindling to start a fire or something… it's so damn cold in here.”

Gwendolyn pulled out and equipped a full facial gas mask after strapping her trusty Shishkebab onto her hip, then disappeared out of the cave they'd have to call home for the night. _Good job, idiot. She ran away from me… How am I able to fuck everything so badly all the time._

The cave's interior was cramped, his head dangerously close to the ceiling while in his armor. In an attempt to make himself a little more comfortable, he tried to sit on the ground by getting on one knee first. As great as power armor is, MacCready understood that it was unfortunately terrible in doing any sort of small movement. As such, he settled on his knee, letting the power armor hydraulics support his weight effortlessly. To pass the time, he decided to try to maintain his weapon as well as come up with something to say to his boss when she’d be back, but she never did.

An hour passed, anxiety and doomsday machinations mounting within the young man before he decided to look for Gwendolyn. In their travels and the time they had spent together, MacCready had learned the hard way that his boss didn’t take kindly to having her alone time intruded on, mostly getting him rewarded by harsh looks, frustrated huffs and the good old silent treatment if she didn’t decide to chase him off with loud warnings. To him, she had gotten out of the cave to escape his presence, meaning that he would surely be very sorry if he had the guts to go after her. However, within the Glowing Sea, surrounded by hostile life forms and God knows what other nightmarish sights, MacCready would gladly take whatever punishment she would have in store for him instead of finding her mangled corpse in a deathclaw nest the next day. In this rotten world, friends don’t come easy, especially for him. He simply couldn’t afford to lose her now.

Stepping outside of the cave proved to be much more difficult than he would have thought. A rad storm had rolled over their shelter, its furious nuclear winds whipping everything out of the way. MacCready was able to stand his ground during particularly strong gusts mostly due to his power armor. How was Gwendolyn surviving out here without proper equipment? The thought forced the young man to break into a jog, looking for any sign of the woman he had pledged to protect.

“Goddamnit! You fucking ghouls!”

“Gwen?! You alright?”

“Mac? Oh am I glad to see you! Get over here!”

The mercenary executed himself, finding a bloodied Gwendolyn hiding within a rocky formation behind rolling dunes. Telltale signs of ghoul bites were present all over her arms, the rotting creatures damaging her jumpsuit with their surprisingly efficient teeth. All the sticky bodily fluid on her must have originated from the ghouls as her suit did not present any rips or tears, just pulled threads and weakened seams. A bundle of irradiated sticks had been latched to her back, kindling she had claimed to be looking for.

“Mac, good, you’re in power armor. Get me out of here, I beg you. The lead plating I added to my suit just wasn’t enough for this butthole. I think I’m gonna be sick.”

“Yeah, yeah, just hop on, boss.”

The mercenary lowered himself on a knee, making him low enough for Gwendolyn to climb onto his armored back. The added weight was still no match for the technological wonder he was in, making the whole experience much nicer than expected. Unfortunately, he couldn’t keep his tongue in check.

“So, boss, tell me again how prepared and ready you are for this place?”

“Watch the sarcasm there, sweet cheeks.”

“Seriously, why didn’t you get back in power armor before heading out. Do you really want to die that quickly? I thought you had a son to find.”

Her silence spoke volume. He had hit a nerve, that was obvious, but he had also dared to doubt her. What he had just said was what normally awarded Preston a stern look and a dismissal, like back in Sunshine Tidings Co-Op after their bout with Kellogg. In true Gwendolyn fashion, she shut him out, ending their conversation with a muttered “shut up” and a deep sigh. MacCready didn’t doubt that she would have left him behind if only she didn’t require his assistance to move her tired and sickly body around.

The duo made their way back to the cave in eerie silence only broken by Gwendolyn’s rad fuelled coughs and gags. Back in the safety of the earth, MacCready hopped out of his power suit to assist his boss in any way possible. He held up a bag of RadAway that was being drained into Gwendolyn’s arm intravenously, allowing the woman to relax her back against the cool rocks of their temporary home. The relative safety of the cave opened up Gwen’s sealed lips, having calmed down and probably forgiven MacCready’s lack of finesse, not that he believed he deserved it.

“Look, Mac, I didn’t think I’d be jumped by a platoon of ghouls first thing out of the cave and I would have been just fine if it wasn’t for that storm. I suggest you don’t try to insult my judgement. You said it yourself: the world doesn’t make sense anymore. So lay off me, I’m doing my best out here!”

“Yeah, uhm, sorry… doubting your dedication to your son was really uncalled for. How are you feeling? Is the RadAway starting to work for you?”

Gwendolyn chuckled under her breath. “I still feel green and about to vomit but hey, better than turning into a feral ghoul, right?”

“No offense boss, but if you do, I’ll put a bullet in your head.”

“Couldn’t blame you, Robert. You better honor that promise if it ever comes to that.”

“Come on, boss, I wasn’t serious.” MacCready raised an eyebrow before regaining his composure. “There’s no way you’ll turn ghoul if I can help it. We have more than enough RadAway and Rad-X as it is. You overpacked the stuff.”

“Better safe than sorry, especially when I need you to come save my dumb ass.”

An awkward silence took hold of the two yet again. If anything, Gwendolyn was horribly opposed to being viewed as a damsel in distress. If she could help it, and she always could, she’d get everything and anything that required either elbow grease or a classic shootout done by herself. It brought MacCready’s mind to the unbelievable tale of Gwendolyn, General of the Minutemen, single handedly taking down a mirelurk nesting ground and their queen back at Castle Independence. According to Preston Garvey, Gwendolyn had insisted on taking most of the brunt of whatever army of crustaceans would come barreling down from the fortifications to save the green recruits from any unnecessary death, a selfless act that had gotten the approval of most Minutemen in her first true battle as their figure head.

“Boss, I was wondering…” Gwendolyn’s chin jerked in acknowledgment. “Why didn’t you want to come in here with anybody else? Nick Valentine wouldn’t be affected by the radiation an-”

“Nick, bless him, mothers me too much. I can only take it in small doses.”

MacCready giggled at the synth’s expense. “Yeah, okay, I’ll give you that one. What about Hancock, or even Danse? I don’t like the guy but we both know he’d have a better chance to survive the Glowing Sea than _us_.”

“A not always so wise spy told me once: “the big three for predicting people: caps, beliefs, and ego. Get a handle on what's driving someone and you know where you stand.” I tend to agree with him and often use this dogma since my world ended. I know where I stand with you because I know what drives you. Your endgame is caps and that’s easier to go around and work with than an ideological fanatic or a dangerous junkie.”

The comment took the young man aback. Gwen, his friend, his boss, was reducing him to just a money hungry fool after he had went out of his way to tell her about himself. He opened himself towards her and she… stabbed him in the back like all the others. MacCready suddenly dropped the IV bag that was now mostly depleted onto Gwendolyn’s lap and stood up in a swift motion.

“Is that all I am to you? Some money hungry ass- idiot?”

“No, Mac, that’s not-”

“Then what is it, Gwen?! I thought I could actually trust you but in reality, you just stuck with me because I’m just an easy guy to manipulate? That’s so rich, coming from you!”

“Mac, please, you misunderstand.”

“What don’t I get this time, boss? That I’m just a nobody to you? Just some gun you can pay to stay silent? I thought you were a friend, Gwen.”

“MacCready, please. That’s not what I meant. Calm down, please…”

“Speaking of, why didn’t you bring Deacon in here instead since you seem to value his word so much?”

“I meant to say that I can trust you because you won’t try to use me or to change me because of your ego or beliefs. I meant to say that I am completely okay with you needing money. The Gunners are gone for now but I’m sure you still have debts or something but that means to me that I know that I can trust you. You haven’t double-crossed me or tried to steal from me. Hell, you gave me back all the caps I ever gave you even though I’m sure you need them more than me! I’m not sure what I think of Deacon yet since he’s so secretive and full of lies but you Mac… I am your friend and ally. I’m sorry if what I said hurt you…”

During their exchange, MacCready had gotten himself ready to storm off, his hat firmly planted upon his head and his duffle bag flung on his shoulder. He had stopped his heated walk in front of his power armor, a hand onto its exposed internal frame. Gwendolyn’s plea had somewhat cooled his head, her soothing voice a balm to his bruised ego.

“Robert,” _She’s not being fair, calling my name so softly like that._ “Please come back here. I need you. I want you in this hellscape with me more than anybody else. I can trust you. I can believe you. I… I feel safe with you. So please, don’t leave me.”

“Fine, fine. Let me get a fire started.”

MacCready set himself to the task of starting a campfire by, first of all, digging a shallow pit to contain the flames safely. The kindling that Gwen had procured within the Glowing Sea was so dry that it caught fire very easily, creating a nice flame to heat up their small cavern. Robert, satisfied with his work, set up the small portable grill that Gwendolyn had found in the Boston Airport Brotherhood base of operations. They were definitely better equipped to set up survey camps than a regular wastelander.

Two heated cans of Cram later, the two companions started to set up their sleeping gear. Instead of using watch rotations during the night ahead of them, Gwendolyn had decided to litter the exterior of their cave with fragmentations mines and trip wires she had packed for such an occasion. If anything dared approach their den, they would surely be injured and either traveler would definitely wake up in the commotion. MacCready’s paranoia didn’t accept such a plan as any form of reassurance to his tired and weary mind, but at this point, he didn’t mind just dropping onto the rocky floor and going to sleep with the soil and gravel in his face. The day had been truly exhausting to him. All the walking, the two vertibird rides and the radscorpion ambush had depleted all his energy even before he had to rescue Gwendolyn and get in a yelling fit with her later on.

The young man set up his bedroll with his feet facing the fire to keep himself toasty and warm throughout the freezing night. Gwendolyn had decided to do much of the same, only with a respectful three meters between the two of them. MacCready didn’t bother taking off his clothes, only getting rid of his duster that he placed upon his sheets as an extra cover. His boss had done the same, remaining in her usual vault-suit within her own bedroll.

“This feels like summer camp all over again.”

Confused, MacCready stood back up in his makeshift bed. “What’s that even supposed to mean? It’s freezing cold out there if you had not noticed, Gwen.”

“Summer camp where… well more like when I was from, it was an activity where we would go in the woods and sleep in tents for fun with other kids. I liked being in all that nature.”

“Nature, yeah, great. Everything always tries to kill us out there. I don’t see what’s so great about it.”

“You dummy, before everything went to shit, woodland critters were adorable and mostly tiny. Can you believe that mosquitoes used to be barely bigger than a nail and now well, they mutated into those disgusting bloodbugs.”

“I don’t care. I still hate em’.”

“Ah, don’t worry there, back then, we hated them too!”

Gwendolyn laughed at her statement, MacCready eventually following her lead. No, MacCready couldn’t really imagine a microscopic bloodbug when, currently, they could suck you dry of all your bodily fluids in minutes with their gigantic proboscis. The scars on his back and torso told many tales of near death experiences at the claws, teeth and insects of the wasteland. Going to camp out in the woods as children now would be a death sentence, regardless of how big or strong any of the kids were. _Did Joseph ever read about summer camps and other kids’ activities from before the Great War? Ah, he would have loved Gwendolyn._

While lost in thoughts, MacCready barely noticed the slithering figure of Gwendolyn make her way to his side of the campfire with her sleeping bag. She sneakily placed herself to his body, her back carefully molded to his side. Her body caressed his with each of her breaths, bringing both comfort and discomfort to him. He could smell the aroma of her hair, a mix of Abraxo, hubflower and a slight tinge of sweat, a fairly pleasant odor that menaced to intoxicate MacCready’s senses. In all honesty, since he had met and left the Third Rail with Gwendolyn, he didn’t truly have the time or privacy to relieve himself. This all too sudden proximity and intimacy was pushing his self control to its limits. Gwendolyn’s tired yet sultry voice did nothing to help his plight.

“It’s still so cold. Let me leech off your warmth.”

MacCready’s voice got stuck in his throat, making his response unnaturally stilted and hesitant. “O-okay. Wh-whatever you want.”

“Thanks Robert.”

Gwendolyn fell asleep shortly after, sweetly sighing as she breathed.


	15. Mnemonic Impression

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where everything goes to hell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You're getting two chapters today to celebrate the fact that I've almost finished writing Part 1 of Whispers and Bullets! You can expect chapter 16 to come out super soon. You might notice that the chapter count is now 15/24. That's right! 24 chapters to Part 1, then we jump straight into the madness of Part 2, which is mostly planned out. 
> 
> Also, a friend of mine wants to make me a paperback version of this fic which means that I've been going back to previous chapters... I kinda hate Chapters 2 to 5 so I'll be rewriting those. The story won't change but if you want to check out the new versions of them, keep an eye out for a end of chapter note. I'll probably announce when they'll be out in one of those.

The night had been long for MacCready. A savage radstorm had taken hold of the Glowing Sea, its red haze permeating through the entire region. The violent cracks of radioactive thunder kept him awake while Gwendolyn was securely nestled by his side in a fetal position. She was a tormented dreamer, murmurs and gasps escaping in her slumber, clues of the visions in her mind. At some point, Robert looked over to see if she was still asleep only to witness tears flowing down her cheeks while she dreamt.

When Gwendolyn’s PipBoy indicated that morning was finally upon them, the storm was still far from over for the day. Its clouds obstructed the sun completely, the only available light coming from the recurring lightning strikes and whatever light source MacCready had opened up. Before his boss woke up, he got a new fire going with the timber that was left from Gwen’s little expedition, preparing to heat up some rations for breakfast. He might not be as good a cook as her but he could still manage. Especially when all he had to do was heat up some Pork n’ Beans.

Five minutes later, a peckish and groggy Gwendolyn took hold of MacCready’s arm in a soft and delicate gesture. Her eyes were still half closed and her lips were slightly parted in a shy smile. Surprised, the young man turned towards his boss, cheeks brightly blushing.

“Morn’ Robert. Smells good.”

Gwendolyn laid on her side, her legs outstretched and her torso propped up by her other arm. The position, while sensual in nature, also had the unfortunate side effect of pushing her modest breasts together. Her mounds were roughly the size of gourds with a nice teardrop shape, the perfect size for one’s hands. MacCready imagined them being delightfully soft and perky, probably also addictively beautiful, truly the stuff that dreams are made out of. Her shift in position had even brought her face dangerously close to his neck, her breath lightly tickling his warm skin. The whole scene was both heaven and hell to the sexually repressed young man.

MacCready escaped Gwendolyn by suddenly getting up and walking over to his backpack at the other end of the cavern. _Gotta calm down. Shit, that was too close. She’s just too much. I won’t be able to take much more of this…_ To soothe his nerves, he hesitantly pulled one of his last cigarettes from his pack to his lips and lit it. Instantaneous relief filled him just as the nicotine smoke had his lungs. Gwendolyn sighed in response as if she was disappointed, or perhaps exasperated, by the turn of events.

The two of them ate in silence then simply waited for the radstorm to roll over by breaking camp. MacCready had done his best to stay as far away from his companion as possible, lest she tormented him further with her feminine charms. Around midday, the storm finally subsided, letting both travelers move out. They barely walked more than two klicks before the storm came back with a vengeance, completely impeding any further progress.

“Even with our Power Armor, we're not going to last long in all this radiation. We need to find shelter,” warned MacCready.

“Let’s hide in that church over there. It’s the only structure around that seems safe enough to enter.”

“Alright, after you, boss.”

Most of the church in question was sunken in the earth, making any kind of entry difficult. Fortunately, its bell tower was still standing and fairly easy to reach. Gwen climbed onto the perforated roof of the building to make her way to the entrance within the tower itself. She then helped MacCready up into the tower as well after scouting out the location. The two of them descended into the structure, going down the stairs connecting the tower to the church’s mezzanine. So far so good, all seemed abandoned. Gwendolyn made her way across the catwalk stretched over the transept to the priest’s quarters. MacCready followed, more interested in getting out of his power suit than anything else. The metallic shell pressed uncomfortably against his bruised legs, making it painful just to wear the suit. Honestly, he just felt awful in general. He was exhausted and every muscle in his body was aching for him to take a break. In the quarters, their geiger counters were still picking up radiation, but at a much lower level. Therefore, Gwendolyn elected to simply take a dose or Rad-X after getting out of her power armor. MacCready plopped his heavy bag onto the floor, satisfied.

“Whew. Good spot to take a break.”

“We don’t really have much of a choice in the matter, do we? I’ll set up camp then I’ll go explore the rest of this church. Wanna tag along?”

“No, I’ll stay here and try to catch some shut eye. You got my back?”

“Yeah of course! Don’t worry about anything, Mac. I’ll have some food ready for you when you wake up.”

“Thanks Gwen, you’re a doll.”

MacCready propped his back to a wall, pulled his hat over his face and drifted to sleep.

 

********************************

 

“MAC, HELP!”

MacCready sprung to his feet, woken up by the visceral call for help. Multiple snarling voices could be heard over the chaos that was his mind. _Ferals! Oh my god, she’s getting attacked by ferals! MOVE!_ The young man got his bearings while more yells emanated from the transept of the church. Dizziness tried to overpower his body but he was able to push it all away with his resolve alone. The first weapon he found, apart from his rifle that was next to him when he woke up, was Gwendolyn’s 10mm pistol. Weapons at the ready, he ran down the creaking steps that would bring him to the ferals.

Something in his mind snapped when he stumbled into the church’s lower level. His vision went dark for a moment, only to be replaced by the metro tunnel, the ferals, and Lucy. She was yelling for his help while feral ghouls clawed at her clothes in an attempt to get their teeth into her flesh. She was alive, screaming in anguish for him to save her. And save her he shall.

MacCready elected to use the 10mm pistol he had in hand as it had a faster firing rate. In front of him, he saw seven feral ghouls and Lucy in the middle of them all. To ensure her safety, his first task was to dispatch the ferals that were holding onto her as she tried to flee. He took aim and fired as accurately as his training allowed him to, instantly dispatching the two ghouls whose claws were preying upon his wife’s torso. Two more bullets took down a ghoul that was desperately trying to snap its jaw around her leg.

“Get down!” MacCready screamed to get a good visual on more of the ghouls. The woman fell into a crouch, ready to crawl for freedom.

Another bullet found its way into the eye socket of a severely deformed ghoul before its closest brethren was able to snatch Lucy’s right arm and pull her back into the fray of hungry, disfigured creatures. She screamed even louder than before, terror taking hold of her entire being once more. MacCready got destabilized by the pleading eyes she planted in his, pure distress flowing through her tears. _She won’t be able to fight the ghouls much longer. She’s already starting to give up._ In an effort to afford Lucy some wiggle room to escape her assailants’ grasp, MacCready emptied his clip above her head in an attempt to take down or, at the very least, push back the ghouls that had climbed onto her back. One of the ghouls dropped dead from a lucky shot to its forehead. Empty, the gun was discarded in favor of the young man’s rifle, which he decided to fire from the hip.

One of the three remaining ghouls, finally noticing the intruder’s presence, got up from Lucy to lunge at him, hands out in front of it. The mercenary dodged the incoming threat with a swift side step. The ghoul fell over itself, making its execution very simple. In the meantime, Lucy had managed to kick one of the two remaining ghouls away from her body and started crawling towards Robert. The two remaining ghouls were dispatched easily with some expertly fired headshots Lucy only stopped moving when the last ghoul bit the dust, her entire being trembling like a leaf. The adrenaline rush that had allowed MacCready to act as fast as he had started to crash, leaving him trembling as well. His dear wife was there, in front of him. She was injured and bleeding, but she was alive. Unable to resist his impulses any longer, he ran to Lucy, dropping to his knees in front of her.

His Lucy was alive. He could touch her long ebony hair and her milky skin. He could gaze into her emerald eyes. He could observe her slim lips and slightly crooked button nose. He could breathe in her scent, a nostalgic mix of pear and mutfruit. She was here, she was real and, most of all, she was alive.

MacCready pulled his wife into his arms, pressing her as close to his body as humanly possible. He nestled his face into her hair like he used to do when she was pregnant with Duncan. Strangely, she wasn’t hugging him back with her long and slender fingers like she usually did, instead she was uncharastically stiff. Maybe she was just still in shock.

“Oh Lucy… Lucy, I missed you… I’m sorry I wasn’t there sooner.”

“Wh-what are you saying?”

“It’s okay, I got you now. You’re safe, I’m here.”

“Mac, let go of me.”

“I love you so much Lucy. Please, don’t leave me.”

“Snap out of it MacCready!”

Robert let the woman distance herself from him. He looked at her, confused and worried. Didn’t she love him anymore? No, that couldn’t be it, she was probably just still in shock. MacCready placed his hand on her cheek to cradle her face. He lovingly peered into her emerald eyes, or were they topazes? His calloused fingers shifted from her skin to her hair, gently stroking her black, no, brown locks. His wife was changing, contradicting his own memory of her. MacCready suddenly felt incredibly dizzy and nauseous. He looked around at his surroundings, which kept shifting between a metro tunnel and a church. Where was he? Who was he with? He didn’t know anymore. The woman in front of him placed her hand on his forehead.

“Oh my god, Robert, you’re feverish! You didn’t forget to take some Rad-X, did you?”

MacCready tried to speak but his voice was completely strangled in his throat. The woman stood up, dragging him up with her. She placed herself under his arm, letting him lean his entire body onto her. She helped him up some steps until he was back to where he had woken up earlier. The woman with him laid down a sleeping bag for him to use. She was trying to talk to him but his head felt encased in cotton. All sounds around him were muffled and incomprehensible. She had him take a pill and some water before using some needles on his arms. Who was she? Where was he? What was happening to him?

“Lucy…,” he murmured before losing consciousness.

 

********************************

 

The next couple of days were a complete blur to MacCready. He remembered very little of the medical treatments that Gwendolyn performed on him. She had used a number of RadAway IVs as well as Stimpacks and herbal stimulants. At some point, she disappeared for an unknown amount of time before making her return, bloodied and covered in grease. Eventually, she had helped him take his coat, fatigues and shirt off to try to wipe off the accumulating sweat on his body with a rag and purified water. He remembered the expression she wore at the revelation of his scarred torso. It was a mix of sadness and remorse. Finally, his improvised nurse gave him the go ahead to try to get out of the bedroll he had been confined to for the best part of a week. He made his first attempt at getting back to his feet with difficulty.

“Easy, small steps. Take it slow, Robert.”

“What happened to me? That was… horrible.”

“It’s all my fault… I should have double-checked your Power Armor myself instead of trusting the mechanics in Sanctuary. The air purification system had some perforated tubes in it. You were breathing in irradiated air this whole time.”

“Are you kidding me?! Okay, if my hair starts falling out... I'm sending you the bill.”

“I’m sorry, Mac… But uhm, I took the time to fix it! Had to do a bit of scavenging but I found some vacuum tubes and-”

MacCready interrupted her with an overly serious stare. “Did you get hurt?”

“I- uhm yeah but it’s nothing serious. I needed some radscorpion venom. It helped melt some of the metal to make a nicer patch.”

“Do we even have enough supplies to get to that Institute scientist alive?”

“Don’t worry about that, we still have enough water. We might have to stop by the Children of Atom for more food and rad medication. We are running a little low.”

“Ugh, not those nutjobs. Why the hell would you worship radiation? Makes no sense.”

“Well… Radiation did create new life and all that, I guess? Can’t say I agree with them but hey, if they don’t shoot at me, I won’t shoot at them,” shrugged Gwendolyn.

“Let’s get to it then. The sooner we leave this place behind, the better.”

“Are you sure you’re well enough to walk and shoot and all that stuff? You were about thiiiiis close to turning ghoul on me, Mac,” She held her index finger millimeters from her thumb. “You also… You also kept saying some really weird stuff and…”

Already out of patience and having heard enough, the mercenary snapped. “I said I’m fine! I’m leaving.”

He rose to his feet hesitantly while still putting on a show of confidence. As much as he liked having Gwendolyn’s attentions, he still hated to be considered a liability, especially by a woman that would have died if it wasn’t for his benevolence. And after all that happened, he had no intention of revealing his true past to his boss, not now in the middle of the Glowing Sea because of some rad-induced hallucinations. Back in his mended power suit, he grabbed his equipment and made for the church’s belltower from where he would drop to the ground. He took long and fast steps to escape both the cursed church and whatever questions his companion could spring on him. There was simply no way he was telling Gwendolyn about Lucy.

Gwen struggled to keep up with his irritated self, trotting behind him most of the way to the Crater of Atom. She must have understood that he wanted nothing to do with her and her interrogations for the moment, since she only gave him brief directions when needed and remained silent the rest of their journey. The Crater was inhabited by the radiation worshipping devotees of the Children of Atom, a cult emanating from the Capital Wasteland. Somehow, its cultists had developed an immunity to the radiation, no special equipment or medication needed to withstand the irradiated depression. Gwendolyn had a chat with the leader of the troop, a certain Mother Isolde before bartering with Brother Ogden for the supplies they would need for their return trip. When she was finished with the religious weirdos, she took off, probably expecting MacCready to follow her without having to ask it of him.

It took a single hour for the two of them to reach and enter a seemingly abandoned cave. Gwendolyn took off her T-60 Power armor helmet after they had descended into the earth. A Protectron robot walked towards them, prompting the mercenary to raise his weapon, only to be dismissed by a harsh look from his boss.

“Virgil?” called Gwendolyn. Her voice was unsure but exempt of any possible fear.

“Virgil,” she repeated, “It’s me, Gwen. Can I come in?”

A loud grunt echoed from the back of the cave before loud footsteps paced towards the illuminated opening of the tunnel’s inner cave.

A booming deep voice shook the earth. “You’re back? I was sure that… It took you so long to come back here, I thought you were dead.”

Gwendolyn walked towards the voice, entering what was definitely the “home” of this Virgil character. MacCready had no interest in meeting that rogue Institute scientist but his options were currently limited. He could head back into the radiation, stay in the cramped tunnel or follow Gwendolyn in, an option that seemed like the only correct one. What he witnessed on his way into the cavernous area was unheard of.

Gwendolyn was perched atop a desk sporting a terminal alongside a seated super mutant. The mercenary’s instincts kicked in and he pointed his rifle directly at the backside of the mutant’s head.

“What the- Gwen, get back!”

“Jesus MacCready, get your fucking gun down!” She turned towards Virgil that had spun his chair around to stare at his assailant. The deadpan look the mutant gave him behind his small spectacles told the rest of the story. “Virgil, don’t mind that idiot. So, you think you can conjure up some schematics for me?” _Idiot?! You’re the one up close and personal with a SUPER MUTANT._

The raspy mutated voice shook MacCready to his core. How could Gwendolyn be so calm and even friendly with this super mutant when she was normally a mutant hating bloodthirsty maniac? While he was at it, he couldn’t help but wonder how a mutant could have been an Institute scientist either. How did that make any sense?

“Yes, I should be able to make use of this code but, how'd you manage to get it decoded?”

“Ah, that. I've made some friends in the Commonwealth.”

“Better you than me. Face like this, I'm not going to make too many friends. You're not the only one who's been busy. I did the best I could, from memory and things I've overheard through the years. Came up with some schematics for you. Wasn't easy; these hands are ridiculous. Fine motor skills have gone to shit.”

“Don’t worry about that,” assured Gwendolyn. “I’m sure I can still make out the important bits.”

“I do hope so. Here's the simple explanation: you need to build a device that will hijack the signal the Institute uses to teleport Coursers, and send you instead. All the data's on harmonic frequencies... You've been hearing it all along. I want to be clear that this isn't my area of expertise. I was BioScience, not Engineering or Advanced Systems or anything.”

Coy, Gwendolyn simply smiled. “I've got it covered.”

“Good, good. Because you've gotta make it in there. For both our sakes. And don't you forget our agreement. I've helped you as best I can. If you make it in there, you find that serum. It's my only hope for ever being... normal. So you find it. Now give me a day or two to finish up the plans and the decoding. Feel free to use this place for your purposes in the meantime. I don’t think that after you’ve actually come back from eliminating both Kellogg and a Courser that I have much ground to doubt you anymore but… What of him? Whoever that friend of your is, I trust you’ll keep him under control.” _HEY! I’m not a mangy mongrel!_

“I told you already, don’t mind him. It’s just a misunderstanding. Let me explain this situation to him and he’ll be as harmless as a fly, I swear.” _Do I just don’t get a say in anything anymore?! I can’t believe she’s talking about ME that way._

“Alright, now, let me work.”

The mutant turned away to type at his terminal with great difficulty, the small keys disagreeing with his enormous green fingers. Gwendolyn walked past MacCready to extirpate herself from her Power armor by the entrance of the cavern before motioning for him to do the same. Irritated and uncertain, he followed her without removing his own suit.

“MacCready, are you alright? Going apeshit at Virgil so quickly and the stares… What’s wrong?”

“Oh I’m _just_ fine, boss. Just damn fine. First the Glowing Sea and the rads, then an army of ghouls and now a freaking super mutant?! It just keeps getting better, doesn’t it? What other great ideas do you have for me to die from now?”

“Okay, whoa, slow down there, sweet cheeks. You wanted to come in here with me. I didn’t force you to do anything at all and mistakes and misfortunes do happen, however prepared you may be. I’m sorry you got severely irradiated. I’m sorry I almost died at the hand of ghouls. And I’m sorry you’re too bigoted to see that Virgil, despite his appearance, is a perfectly sane and agreeable person. Well… maybe not agreeable, but you get the picture.”

“No I don’t Gwen. You- you’re just insane, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, I am insane. Insane to think that you could understand and shoulder me. I can’t believe you’re saying this shit to me, Mac. Can’t you see that Virgil used to be human? He’s harmless. And now you’re blaming me for everything wrong with our trip in this butthole?! I thought- I…”

Robert grabbed Gwendolyn’s slumped shoulders in his metallic grasp, prompting her to wince as he accidentally lifted her from the ground. He was definitely hurting her but had no more energy to spend into restraining himself.

“Everything about you is nuts! 200 years old, friends with super mutants and synths, affiliated to enemy factions like it’s nothing and desperately trying to mess with the Institute and even infiltrate it. I can’t understand you! You’re almost dying every other day and you expect me to just be okay with that? With all this sh- all this crap, we’re not making any caps, just making it real easy for folks to kill us. You’re just going to kill me, Gwen! Is that what you want?! I really just don’t get you! You’re completely out of it and delusional. What are you even thinking, getting me roped into all this?!”

“I THOUGHT WE WERE FRIENDS!”

Her shout perturbed MacCready more than he wished to admit. The shock made him drop the woman onto the rocky floor. She had never yelled at him before, even when he was fucking up everything for her and making her life more difficult than it had to be. She painstakingly pulled herself back to her feet, trying to brush the dirt off her vault-suit. Her usually gleaming eyes looked dead when she finally lifted her face to him again.

“Gwen, I-”

“I’ve heard enough. MacCready, it’s time for you to go. Get whatever supplies you need from my stuff and just go. Leave.”

“Gwen, come on-”

“Don’t call me that. Clark is fine. Just, please, take your things and go.”

“Hmph, okay. See you around. Maybe.”

The mercenary grabbed his bag, neglecting to check his stash of supplies, and simply walked out of Virgil’s cave and back into the Glowing Sea. _That… that didn’t go too well._ _I’m sure she’ll come back to her senses soon enough, right? She’s gotta know I’m right._ _I’ll just hang out around here and wait for her to come and apologize. It’s not like I can easily make my way back to Sanctuary now._

_She’s gonna come back, right?_


	16. Contemplation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where a separated duo suffers.  
> CW: Self-hatred, Contemplating suicide.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you feel like supporting me, feel free to check out my Ko-Fi. I was asked by a reader to make one so, here you go!  
> http://ko-fi.com/mastorya

The last rays of the dying sun coloured the sickly greens of the crater in front of him in a toxic ocher. Its fumes rose to the clouds of an impending rad storm. MacCready had waited out the better part of the afternoon for Gwendolyn to come and fetch him, but to no avail. _Oookay. I guess she really wanted me to just leave. How am I supposed to do that anyways, I’m not the one walking around with a map on my wrist. Whatever, I can probably retrace our way…_ MacCready looked around for a landmark he recognized. He was stationed at the bottom slope of a fairly high etched hill of rock and debris. The terrain, while irregular, stretched out perfectly identical for miles. His only option was then to make his way to the Crater of Atom. _No way, I have to go through the Atom freaks’ place. And it’s raining now?! Ugh. I hate getting wet._ _Maybe I should just… No, no I won’t go back in there my tail between my legs. Gwen is nuts and a danger to herself as well as to me. I can’t back down now._

Since his boss was still nowhere to be seen, he decided to try and get some shelter among the radiation worshippers. With no idea as to where he could lay down his things, he walked towards Mother Isolde's home. 

“Halt traveler. What is it that you seek in our sacred land?”

“Can I stay here until the rain lets up? My boss and I met you earlier today.”

“Oh? You were that silent person marching with Sister Clark? Please, do use this modest home for your purpose.”

“Uhm, thanks I guess.”

“Are you perhaps also a follower of Atom from Far Harbor?” 

“No, just… just a friend of hers. Gwen is one of you?”

“Sister Clark told us tales of the Nucleus, Atom's holy site from within his holy veil. I fear she does not truly believe in Him however. Nevertheless, it would be dishonorable for me and my flock to refuse to aid a fellow child of Atom.”

MacCready's confusion only grew with each new piece of information given to him by Mother Isolde. Just how many things did Gwendolyn get herself into before they had met? Still, relieved to get out of the infernal acid rain of the Glowing Sea, the young man eagerly entered the strange metallic church. His plan was now to wait out the rain and try to survive until he made it back to non-irradiated soil. Was it basically suicide? Yes, but his ego gave him no other choice. 

 

********************************

 

Robert woke up cold and alone within his Power armor. He had taken a short nap at the Crater of Atom whilst waiting for the latest bout of acid rain to end. The moment the sky cleared up, he left the Crater behind him. Night had just fallen, forcing him to open his headlamp for any form of visibility. While it helped him in his travels, it also made him an easy target for whatever beast or atrocity waited for him among the shifting sand and dirt. _I’m cold, I’m hungry, I’m tired… Today has just been great._ _Come on… At least I’m finally on the open road with a loaded weapon. It won’t get much better than this for now._

MacCready made it to a capsized factory without much trouble. The entire building had fallen underground over the last hundred years on top of being covered in metallic parts and burnt out car frames. Thinking that the sunken area might be rads-free, the mercenary entered the concrete structure through a broken down wall. The moment he set foot within the buried room, he knew he had made a mistake.

His trained ears immediately picked up the distinct clicks of radscorpion pincers gutting their victims through his helmet speakers. His head lamp, fortunately, did not reveal any of the arachnids so he tried to slowly back out of the room. A misstep lead him to break some of the rocks and old asphalt under his heavy boots, causing a minute crackling noise. The clicking immediately stopped, replaced by the strange hissing sounds of pissed off scorpions.  _ OH NO. G-gotta go! _

MacCready took off in a sprint towards wherever felt the safest, which, in the Glowing Sea, is nowhere and everywhere all at once. He ran around and over dunes, past broken down buildings and destroyed roads. The gigantic scorpions still gave chase in a pack, not letting go of their metallic prey until MacCready stumbled into a derelict office building. 

The office, called Atlantic Offices, was the very first enclosed building that Robert had seen within the Glowing Sea. The barren interior was your regular Commonwealth fare with its crumbling metallic ceilings, broken down electronics and destroyed doors. Surprisingly, MacCready’s geiger counter was not giving off its usual clicks indicating radioactivity in the air. Relieved, he left the confines of his Power suit.  _ Let’s see what we got here… Ah, I still have two boxes of Instamash and three cans of Pork N’ Beans. Pork it is I guess. I really can’t afford to use some water on that Instamash right now. Alright, do I have… yes, that’s it. There’s so much paper all over the place in here. There, a little fire pit and now to light it up. Good, good. I’ll just leave the can in the fire while I take care of Savior. All the dirt and dust stuck in its barrel can’t be healthy. _ After the acceptable meal, Robert decided to unroll his sleeping bag to rest. The building he was in felt safe enough to him that he might be able to get some shuteye and sleep off the night’s suffocating darkness.

A gurgling voice woke him up in the middle of his sleep. Cold sweat gathered over his entire body as shuffling noises made their way to his position.  _ Not again… Not damn ghouls again! _ In one swift motion, MacCready got out of his bedroll and onto his feet. His hands searched blindly for his rifle. Amidst the darkness, the metallic weapon was nowhere to be found.  _ Where the hell did I put Savior!? FUCK. _ Moans and chirps approached slowly until one of the ghouls spotted the slithering young man. Screeches and snarling ensued as the cadaverous monsters ran into the main room of the Atlantic Offices.  _ How many are there? At least there are no Glowing ones, but I can’t see anything!  _ At last, Robert found his duffle bag in the black room. Searching through it, he found a combat knife, a gift from Gwendolyn, and his lighter. Flicking the spark wheel produced a flame barely strong enough to illuminate the area around his feet, but it would have to do for now. His assailants were upon him.

A ghoul collided with MacCready, desperately trying to sink its teeth into the young man’s arm. He pushed it back as far as he could and used the combat knife to stab into the creature’s rotting torso. Another ghoul leapt from the mercenary’s left to claw away his defensive position, only slightly impaired by Robert’s elbow. Overwhelmed, he stumbled backwards onto something metallic.  _ Savior!  _ The stabbed ghoul gargled on the blood spurting out from the large gash in its torso. MacCready used the dying feral as a shield against a third assailant that was flailing its arms wildly towards him. Its gnarly claws cut the dead ghoul’s flesh, causing blackened blood to splash onto the floor in a slippery puddle. MacCready, seizing the opportunity, pushed the limp ghoul’s body onto this new enemy before stabbing the leftmost feral in the throat with his combat knife. The young man slumped into a quick crouch to grab his rifle in one hand, as the other still held his precious lighter, the only light source in the room. 

“Eeeeehhhh! Shut up!”

A quick succession of shots came from Savior’s barrel, putting down the two other ghouls that were still alive. Satisfied, MacCready let his guard down, allowing a fourth ghoul that had been lagging behind its compatriots to crash into him. Rabid hands tore his fatigues to shreds, exposing his white undershirt. Panicked, Robert hit the withered ghoul across the back with his rifle. He was desperately flailing his limbs, trying to crawl away from it. The creature’s slim arms were still strong enough to pin MacCready to the ground. The ghoul bit into the tender flesh of his shoulder, pulling away skin and fatty tissue. Blood erupted from the fresh wound, bathing the ground in crimson. Robert searched around him for an answer to the vicious assault until his fingers found the combat knife he had plunged into a now inert opponent. Clenching his teeth, he tried to pull the knife out, slightly shifting his body under the ghoul that was eating his shoulder away. The next moment, the knife was plunged deeply into the withered ghoul’s rotting grey matter, saving MacCready from certain death.

Still under the corpse, Robert took heavy breaths, adrenaline pumping furiously in his veins. 

“Bleeding... can't hold out…”

It took great effort and pain for him to free himself from the dead ghoul. His left arm had been mangled, his shoulder cut open and ripped by the feral’s teeth. MacCready put as much pressure as he could manage onto the bleeding wound with his right hand, letting go of his lighter in favor of survival. After scooting his back against a wall, the young man tried to think of a plan of action. He would definitely die if he didn’t stop the bleeding. His time within the Gunners served him well; in such a dreadful situation, he knew what to do.

MacCready let go of the wound rapidly to try to grab onto his rifle. He emptied the chamber of its unspent bullet, leaving the mercenary to fumble with the cartridge in the dark until it finally opened. Teeth clenched, he poured the gunpowder onto his exposed flesh. He yelped as the foreign chemical hit the exposed nerve endings. Unfortunately, the worst was still to come. He had performed the procedure on himself before, but never had he done it in the dark. He’d have to be as careful and precise as possible. Clenching his previously discarded lighter in his right fist, MacCready took a deep breath before tightening his jaw once more. He then set the gunpowder aflame, quickly cauterizing the wound while he yelled in pain and anguish. The burn complete, he let both his arms go limp, letting go of the lighter once more. Exhausted and in agonizing pain, he let his head fall back on the metallic wall behind him, dark thoughts brewing in his mind.

_ Another close call. Man, those have been happening way too much lately. I just… I'm so useless by myself. I miss having Gwen around… with me. _

_ This is all my fault. All I had to do was keep quiet and agree with the boss. I pushed this upon myself. I made the stupid choice of holing up in here without her to watch my back.  _

In the dark room, loneliness and doubt easily crept into his entire being, giving way to self-hatred once more. Thinking back on the events from earlier that same day, maybe he had been unfair with his boss. After all, she was just trying to save her son, exactly like he was. Was he just mad at himself for not being able to actually help her? Was he angry at himself for being so dependant on her to help his own child? Gwendolyn always went on about avoiding to waste time in her quest for fear that it was just too late for her boy. What was he doing not saving Duncan? Letting time pass him by like he did couldn’t be responsible.

_ Duncan is dying. Lucy is dead. Everything I ever loved… Gone. Why? Why am I still alive? Why didn’t I get the same illness? Why didn’t I get devoured by ghouls back in that metro tunnel? What’s the point anymore… why do I keep trying when everything I ever do is wrong and kills the ones around me. I chose to hole up in the damn metro… I killed Lucy. I chose to let Duncan play around our homestead… I killed Duncan. It’s all my fault. Always all my fault. And Gwen is all alone in the Glowing Sea, if she’s even still alive. I can’t do anything right. I just can’t.  _

_ I'm just a useless coward. I'm a waste of space. _

_ I’m just so tired.  _

_ Living is such a pain... _

Savior’s barrel was placed firmly under his chin while his right hand tickled the rifle’s trigger. It would be so easy just to give in and blow his own brains out. It would be so satisfying to simply stop and let death take him away from the Commonwealth. Just a little push on that trigger and all of it would finally end. No more pain, no more doubt, no more misery. Just one click. Just one… Robert, in tears, threw the rifle away, letting it slam into the door he had taken to enter the office building he was holed up into.

Savior’s barrel was placed firmly under his chin while his right hand tickled the rifle’s trigger. It would be so easy just to give in and blow his own brains out. It would be so satisfying to simply stop and let death take him away from the Commonwealth. Just a little push on that trigger and all of it would finally end. No more pain, no more doubt, no more misery. Just one click. Just one… Robert, in tears, threw the rifle away, letting it slam into the door he had taken to enter the office building he was holed up into. 

_ NO! Duncan is still out there, trying to live, trying to survive! I can’t fail him now. I can’t be this selfish. And Gwen, she’s also out there. She… She didn’t turn on me, I turned on her. I threw her away because I was a scared little COWARD. Coward. You’re just a DAMN COWARD! Gwen gave me everything I ever wanted! She gave me a home, she gave me money, she gave me freedom… She gave me her friendship and I just pissed on it like I do everything else! Why can’t I just be happy!? Why am I paranoid all the time?! She wasn’t trying to kill me… She did all she could to protect me. Hell, she offered to let me hide from the Gunners in Sanctuary. Just what am I doing… _

_ Gwendolyn, I’m sorry. _

_ I miss you. _

********************************

The pale morning sun filtered through the rusted ceiling plates of the Atlantic Offices, casting its warmth on MacCready’s freezing body. He had lost a fair amount of blood despite his attempt at cauterizing the wound. His vision was hazy and confused, disorienting him even further. Despite his failing strength and health, he got to his feet in a painstakingly long process, trying to head for his discarded pack. The only thing that would keep him afloat right now was a stimpack, a blood transfusion and Med-X, if he still had any left. In his medical pocket, he only found two stimpacks and some rags. A quick top off and a hasty bandage was all he could manage in his condition. After getting his things in order, Robert nestled himself in his Power Armor before finally heading out into the irradiated desert. The young man wondered how long he still had to go until he would be out of the nightmarish landscape. His diminished state significantly reduced his chances of survival. Still, he kept on walking at a slower pace, taking in the devastation of his surroundings. Corpses and skeletons littered the way ahead, victims of the bombs or of the creatures inhabiting the environment, he didn’t know or care. He simply prayed he wouldn’t end up as one of them. 

This late March day had surprises in store for the mercenary, starting with a violent acid rainstorm which he powered through. Seeing no adequate place for him to stop, MacCready kept on going against his better judgement, causing external damage to his suit. Well, it was Gwendolyn’s, but he didn’t know what to think about the situation. Was she expecting him to bring it back to Sanctuary and disappear entirely? No matter, the old T-51 suit would definitely not be staying in his possession. After all, the damned thing had caused him to lose his mind to rad-fueled hallucinations. Robert could barely believe he mistook Gwendolyn for Lucy in his worst moment. They were nothing alike. Gwendolyn’s physical traits were much more refined than Lucy’s ever were, but she still lacked his deceased wife’s gentle nature. If anything, Gwen was a hardass, giving out orders and lashing out in the most vicious ways. She’d never yell. Her talents rested in the way she made you feel horrible, acting like a disappointed parent in the face of an estranged youth. Still, the vaultie had her soft moments. When RJ came to think about it, she had a lot of tender moments for him especially. For some reason, she kept forgiving him much quicker and easier than she did anybody else, especially Preston Garvey. Somehow, that poor man knew exactly how to get on her bad side, to a point where it became absolutely hilarious to MacCready. The mercenary recalled one of the times that Garvey dared approach Gwen while she was in her home, taking a sip of whiskey with a book in hand. The Minuteman colonel had uttered the dreaded words: 

“I’ve heard of another settlement that’s in trouble.”

Gwendolyn sized him up from behind her book before looking away disinterested. “So?”

“What? You can’t ignore their call for help, General. If we don’t help-”

“Just take a team and go by yourself, Preston. You don’t need my permission or anything.”

“About that, you should really go to them yourself, General. The settlers always love to see you and it would help give the cause a good reputation.”

The deadly stare that followed was quite a sight. “I’m not your fucking pin-up, dude. Go take care of it by yourself, that’s an order.”

“Gwendolyn, I really think you should go.”

“Okay, I’m going to level with you, Garvey. I have other things to do than go around the entire Commonwealth everytime a settler breaks a nail. Your job is to coordinate patrols and emergency help parties. Are you trying to tell me you can’t do your job?”

“I understand that but-”

“So get your dumbass over there and do your fucking job”, Gwendolyn said while throwing her book at Preston. “I did my part in all this and keep doing it every single day! I took on the mantle of General when you wouldn’t. I took back the Castle and I’m even trying to broker an accord and even an alliance with the Brotherhood. Is that still not enough for you? Can’t I just sit down for five minutes and read some Edgar Allen Poe without you getting all up in my hair?! Unbelievable!”

Gwendolyn stormed off to her private bedroom, leaving behind a fish-faced Preston Garvey in her wake. The whole time, MacCready had been resting in an armchair, watching the confrontation unfold.  _ Poor guy. He just can’t catch a break either, uhm? And of course, she was loud enough to let everyone know he fucked up again. Sorry but you brought that on yourself Garvey! _

MacCready, further reminiscing as he walked, couldn’t help but also recall all the small touches and attentions that Gwendolyn showered him with on an almost daily basis. The water bottles she kept nearby for him, the Sugar Bombs she sneaked into his pack once in a while since she knew they’re his favorite, the gun she made for him, the repairs she had made on his hat… The young man’s heart tightened at each memory. They had not been apart for more than a day and already he missed her more than anything else in the world. Just what had he become? He felt like a lovesick teenager.

“ROBERT!”

The mercenary turned on his heels to discover a silhouette clad in Power Armor running towards him. Gwendolyn was sprinting madly, trying to catch his attention. MacCready’s heart both sank and flew all at once.  _ She wants me back, doesn’t she?  _ He felt smug and decided to casually ignore the woman in an attempt to make her long for him even more. Unfortunately, that was not his boss’s intentions.

“ROBERT, RUN!” desperately yelled Gwendolyn. After a second look, the young man noticed something following her.

“ROBERT, GO! DEATHCLAW!”

He fell into a sprint as well despite his sickly body and mangled shoulder. There was no way he could survive a deathclaw attack in his condition, with or without Gwen at his back. Survival instincts kicked in, helping him gain an unreasonable speed, thanks to his metallic legs’ hydraulics. However, Gwendolyn, much more in shape and probably not at death’s door like he himself was, caught up to him easily.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck! It’s HUGE! Mac, do they have a weak point or something?!” panted Gwendolyn.

“B-Belly,” he struggled in response. All of his fight-or-flight adrenaline was already failing him. “I can’t- Gwen I can’t take it on.”

“What?! Did y- you get injured?!”

“Big time.”

“Well, fuck. Just keep running!”

The woman pulled her duffle bag to her chest and searched it frantically. Her cadence had slowed down, trying to stay by her companion’s side. Whatever she had in mind was definitely for his sake more than hers at this point since she could probably outrun the creature for a little longer and possibly prompt the deathclaw to stop its chase.

“Don’t look back, RJ! I got this!”

Gwendolyn pulled the pins off multiple fragmentation grenades and threw them at her feet one by one. The grenades detonated one after the other at MacCready’s heels, leaving a trail of craters for the deathclaw to deal with. Mostly undeterred, the deathclaw kept to the chase, approaching his prey. On to option number two. Gwendolyn blindly threw molotov cocktails behind her, desperately hoping they would make the irradiated lizard think twice before continuing its pursuit. Surprised, it did slow down slightly, letting MacCready and Gwendolyn gain some ground. 

“Gwen… I can’t keep up. Just go, leave me behind!”

“Over my dead body, Robert. Over my dead fucking body!”

The woman abruptly stopped running and turned to face the deathclaw. 

“YOU WANT ME? THEN COME AND GET IT, MOTHERFUCKER!”

A flurry of bullets escaped Gwendolyn’s 10mm pistol, most of them hitting the deathclaw’s thick skin. It roared in response and readied a long and deadly claw. Finally in reach, it grabbed Gwendolyn’s upper torso with its left claw, roaring directly into the woman’s helmet. Still, she stood her ground, swatting away the large head with her armored hand. She emptied her gun’s clip into the monster’s face, causing the lizard to recoil in pain. Gwen then took out her double barrel shotgun from her back and fired unceremoniously into her assailant’s chest, aiming for its soft underbelly. Geysers of blood erupted onto her Power Armor.

MacCready, completely out of strength and breath, had to stop his run for safety. Vertigo took hold of him, making him fall to his knees, bracing his body up from the sandy soil with both of his arms. Unable to see Gwendolyn’s fight for survival anymore, he could only rely on the screams and roars permeating what felt like the entire Glowing Sea to predict his own incoming death. 

Gwendolyn screamed at the top of her lungs, clicked her shotgun shut and fired another shot into the deathclaw’s body when it tried to grab onto her again. It was not nearly as effective as the first flurry of slugs. The huge claw swatted her away, making her fall to the ground. She crawled as well as she could from within her Power Armor but the mutated foe pinned her down under its gigantic hind paw. It then grabbed onto her helmet and ripped it off her head. She screamed once more with noticeable fury in her voice.

Robert, half conscious, took hold of Savior. He was sitting down in the dirt, using his outstretched legs to keep the gun’s barrel steady. He fired at the deathclaw, hitting it in the back of the head. Enraged, the creature turned most of its body from Gwendolyn to face the mercenary. MacCready reloaded Savior in one swift motion, discarding the spent shell.  _ I can do this. I can take it down with me. I can kill a deathclaw. _

The bullet traversed the green haze of the Glowing Sea, carrying with it MacCready’s hopes for Gwendolyn’s survival. It split the air until it found its way into the deathclaw’s right eye. The ocular organ burst open, its aqueous humor spilling down the monster’s face followed by a torrent of blood. The creature grabbed its mutilated face, roaring in pain. It stumbled and stepped away from Gwendolyn, struggling to keep its balance until it fell to the ground. It writhed on the ashy soil, its voice growing higher as it went. At this point, killing the monster could be considered an act of mercy. Despite the seething pain it was obviously in, MacCready couldn’t help but smile. 

Gwen found her way back on her feet. Her armored torso was slightly bent inwards from the creature’s mass and musculature. She looked upon her dying opponent, her dirtied face in the irradiated wind. Her helmet, crushed beyond repair, lay on the ground a good distance away from the combat zone. She picked up her shotgun at her feet and fired into the deathclaw’s half-exploded head, dealing the finishing blow. She stood there, immobile, observing the mangled deathclaw, soaking in her new title of apex predator.


	17. A Fool's Hope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where MacCready spills the beans.

“You still with me, buddy?”   


“Y-yeah, Gwen. Where are we going?”

“Somerville Place. It’s a small farm affiliated with the Minutemen. Just concentrate on staying conscious until we make it there, okay?”

“How did you find me?”

“I- I tracked you. I felt horrible about how we parted ways and wanted to make up or at least make sure you were safe.”

“Eh, how about that. I knew you couldn’t live without me.”

“Shut up…”

MacCready was being held up by Gwendolyn, his arm over her armored shoulder. She wasn’t wearing any headgear anymore after their last opponent, a deathclaw, had completely destroyed her T-60 Helmet. The flying dirt was catching itself on her sweaty skin and loose hair making her look more like a raider than a General. Pronounced redness and dark circles swallowed her eyes, betraying her current mental health. Their separation seemed to have been as traumatic for her as it had been for him. A pair of lovesick children.

Before long, they happened upon the very edge of the Glowing Sea as the sun began to decline on the horizon. Small bushes and various herbs were starting to appear in MacCready’s vision, giving him hope that he might be able to extirpate himself from his Power Suit soon enough. His consciousness was wavering, on top of being unaided by his thirst and hunger. If Gwendolyn wasn’t supporting most of his weight currently, he’d probably be face down in the sandy earth below his boots.  _ Blood loss is seriously no joke _ .

The next few minutes had Gwendolyn getting him into an old ruined house inhabited by a father and his two sons. When the protective embrace of his suit let go of MacCready’s body, he fell backwards onto an horrified Gwen taking in the extent of the damage on both his gear and his body. His already tattered duster was falling apart right off of his body, revealing the bloody rags covering his unsightly shoulder wound. The man that owned the farm, a Mister Bartholomew, helped carry Robert’s exhausted and emaciated body onto a three seater couch before leaving the mercenary to his fate at the hands of Gwendolyn. 

The woman was desperately trying to regain composure, obviously upset at the state of her companion. Her hands were shaking, her face flushed and her lips trembling. She started by carefully removing what was left of MacCready’s long coat and the military fatigues underneath. She dared not speak the whole time. Instead, her eyes were darting from left to right, supposedly trying to avoid the mangled flesh as much as possible. Prominent teeth marks turned a sickly brown covered the young man’s left shoulder, from one end of his clavicle to the other. Some of the exposed tissue had blackened in the sloppy burning process while other patches were visibly infected and still bleeding, drops of blood trickling down to Robert’s chest. 

“Fuck… Robert, wh-what happened to you?”

“A feral ghoul got the better of me. Looks bad, right doc?”

“It doesn’t just look bad… it’s obviously infected. We need to get you on antibiotics as soon as possible or… you could lose your arm or die, even. Did you burn it?”

“Yeah, with gunpowder. A trick I learned while in the Gunners.”

“I-I’m so sorry. It’s my fault.”

“No. I’m sorry. Shouldn’t have said those things. Me and my big mouth.”

The entire time, Gwendolyn had been searching the medical kit given to her by Bartholomew for the supplies she would need to try to save whatever was left of her friend’s shoulder. Eventually, she placed some stimpacks, Med-X, fresh gauze, surgical scissors and an empty syringe on a small table close to MacCready’s head.

“Shit… they don’t have any antibiotics. You stay here, Mac… I’ll try to make some like Curie showed me way back when.”

“Who’s Curie?”

“A good friend. She’s a synth, formerly a Miss Nanny robot, that basically knows everything you’d ever need to know on medical stuff. I wish she was here right now… She’d get you back on your feet in no time, I guarantee it.”

“Why don’t you get Preston to take her here?”

“I could but… we can’t wait. Getting her from Vault 81 to here would take way too long. You’ve no idea how bad your shoulder already got.”

“Do you really think I don’t know that it’s infected to heck? Hey, I can take it for a couple of days. I’ve seen worse.”

“No, I refuse to take chances here. What if you... No, I can’t even think about that. Just, please don’t get up or anything. I’ll have Bart bring you food while I go around to look for what I need.”

And just like that, Gwendolyn was gone from his sight. She had gotten rather emotional, her eyes watering at the mere possibility of his passing. MacCready would be lying to himself if he didn’t recognize that it made him feel like he mattered to her. Hell, it made him happy. Bartholomew, the tall dark haired man that welcomed them into his home came by an hour later with some vegetable soup for him. The man was someone of few words yet compassionate to a fault. He had fetched extra pillows and a yao guai throw to keep MacCready warm during the night that had finally fallen. He had also brought an oil lantern and some old dusty books for the mercenary as well as bringing a preserved box of Fancy Lad Snack Cakes. Somehow, this silent stranger treated Robert like family despite knowing absolutely nothing about him.

Gwendolyn showed up back in the farm house the next morning. She was completely drenched in swamp water, bloodied and pale but still sporting a supportive smile for her injured companion. She had gathered up some glowing fungus and bloatfly glands in a small hip pouch which she emptied in Bart’s kitchen. They exchanged a few words before the man returned to his farm. While the vault dweller was slaving away over a stove covered in vials and flasks, MacCready laid on the couch he called his bed for the previous night.

A small child, probably not older than eight years old, observed the injured mercenary from behind a door frame that led to a bedroom. The child, a young red haired boy with deep green eyes, simply looked on with great curiosity before finally approaching MacCready a little while later.

“Mister, are you going to die?”

“I hope not. What’s your name, kid?”

“You look like you’re dying.”

“Ah, probably. Answer my question.”

“Luke.”

“That’s a nice name. Do you help your dad with the farm?”

“Sometimes. My brother Jerome does it more.”

“Is he older than you?”

“Yeah. He said you were going to die. He’s mad because Papa gave you the cakes he wanted.”

“I didn’t eat any of them, you know. Tell your brother to come take one if he wants any. What’s that you’re holding?”

The young boy pulled out a magazine from behind his back. “It’s Grognak!”

“Hey, I have that issue too! Maula the War Maiden of Mars, right?”

“Yeah! Grognak is so cool! He beats the lady and her army all the way on Mars! And he saves Glima and he k-kisses her.”

MacCready chuckled. “That’s definitely one of the best comics they made. You want to know a secret, Luke?”

“Yeah?”

“Gwen over there is even more ferocious and strong than Maula. Did you know that?”

“Really?! Miss Gwen is that strong?”

“Totally. She chews on deathclaws for breakfast and super mutants for lunch.”

“I like Miss Gwen a lot. She gave me my Grognak. I wanna kiss her like Grognak kissed Glima.”

“Kissing is stupid,” interjected Jerome that had entered the living room of the ruined house as well.

“No it’s not! It’s for when you really really like someone! It’s not stupid,” replied an outraged Luke.

“Fighting is way better! I want to be as strong as Grognak. Kissing is super gross!”

“No it’s not!”

“Okay boys, settle down. Why don’t you go play outside with your dad?” 

Gwendolyn had entered the room as well, probably to defuse the situation before the two young brothers began to fight. The boys left, Luke starry-eyed and Jerome with a frown. The room now back to normal, she turned to face MacCready that couldn’t help but smile.

“You’re good with kids, Mac. I didn’t expect that from you.”

“Yeah…” Uncomfortable, Robert gulped and tried to change the subject. “How’s your science project going?”

“It’ll be ready this afternoon. Just decanting and letting the mixture do its course. How are you feeling?”

“Like crap but at least I’m not too uncomfortable.”

“Sorry to say that it’ll get a lot more uncomfortable in a little bit… With what I see of the wound you got, I’ll have to excise most of the burned and scarred tissue to promote better skin repair as well as remove a bunch of the infected flesh. Hopefully, you won’t feel much with all the Med-X I can provide for you.”

“I’m sorry, you want to play junior surgery on me?”

“It’s okay! Curie showed me a bunch of stuff. I’ve seen her do operations like this before.”

“But you know nothing about it in reality, right?”

“Can you just appreciate that I’m trying to save your damn shoulder here? I could just cut off the damn thing all together.”

“Alright, alright. Just don’t butcher my good looks.”

“Didn’t know you had any of those.”

“Ouch, Gwen. Feelings.”

She giggled at MacCready’s expense like she loved to do, leading to the birth of a sense of warm in the young man’s broken and cold body. He had definitely missed her quirks.

 

********************************

 

In the late afternoon, MacCready was moved onto the dining table present in Bart’s kitchenette. His body was freezing and discolored due to the blood loss he was still suffering from. After closing off the room, Bart and Gwen prepared themselves for the awful things they would have to do to Robert’s mangled shoulder. They first scrubbed their hands with Abraxo and soap, then they administered a syrette of Med-X into the mercenary’s neck. The calming agents went to his head quickly, troubling his vision and relaxing his limbs. The painstaking process of cutting out burned skin and flesh started shortly after Gwendolyn had confirmed that MacCready couldn’t feel much in terms of pain. Bartholomew stayed on the sidelines, giving out whatever tool Gwen required to continue the operation. 

It took thirty minutes, two stimpacks and a second dose of Med-X to get the majority of the excision completed. At this point, however, MacCready had again lost a lot of blood, worrying both of his attending physicians. The mercenary heard his boss calling out to him but his brain on chems could barely process what was being said.  _ She wants blood? What’s a type? Ah man, she’s so beautiful right now. What's wrong, knockout, why the sad eyes? _ A small prickling sensation woke his senses up a bit more than they had been. Gwendolyn had inserted a needle connected to a blood bag into his right inner elbow. The rich red liquid slid lazily into his arm.  _ Is this whole thing going well? Gwen looks worried.  _

Finally, after another twenty minutes, sutures made of fishing line closed up the leftover flesh on his shoulder. Then, the handmade antibiotics were injected into the affected area. Gwen made him drink plenty of water afterwards before letting him slowly get off his high. Overtime, his shoulder became painful again but at least he didn’t feel at death’s door anymore. He was no longer always dizzy and weak, nor was he still incapable to sustain all of his own weight. When Gwen came in the room to fetch him again, he had been able to sit up without much difficulty. Whatever his companion had done was definitely doing the trick.

“How you feeling, Mac?”

“Better. Alive.”

“I’m glad. I got lucky and found a O- blood bag to keep you afloat during the procedure. Now, what I did was in no way very good so we’re leaving by vertibird whenever you feel ready to be evacuated.”

“Where we headed?”

“The Prydwen. Cade will be able to actually patch you up. I also think I need to have a word with Maxson about these plans I got from Virgil. If anyone has the resources to make the doomsday machine we need, it’s him.”

“Alright. Before we go, I need to talk to you.”

Puzzled, Gwendolyn cocked her head to the side. “Of course, what’s up?”

“I never got a chance to properly thank you for helping me take out Winlock and Barnes.”

“No thanks necessary, you silly goose. We’re friends!”

“Well, I wanted to say it anyway. You stuck your neck out for me and I don't forget shit... errr, I mean things like that.”

“You ought to try cursing once in a while... it's good for the soul.”

“Oh believe me, I know. It's not about you, it's about a promise I made. When I left the Capital Wasteland, I didn't just leave Little Lamplight behind... I left my family behind. Had a beautiful wife named Lucy... and a son we named Duncan. He's the one that I made my promise to... a promise to clean up my act and to be a better person. I guess that sounds pretty stupid coming from a guy who shoots people for a living.”

“Ah, things are starting to make sense. That’s who Lucy was. Well, you don’t strike me as the dead beat dad type so I’m sure you had a good reason to leave them behind.”

“That's what I keep telling myself. My son... he- he's sick. I- I don't know what's wrong with him. One day, he's playing out in the fields behind our farm... the next he took a fever and these blue boils popped up all over his body. Last I saw he was almost too weak to walk. I didn't dare ask him to come with me. Honestly, I don't know how much longer he's going to last.”

“Oh my God, Mac, I’m so sorry. There has to be something we can do! We’ve got to talk to all the doctors we can.”

“Every doctor I've talked to was worthless! They never even heard of the disease. I don't need them... I need someone like you. You've already done so much for me, I feel horrible asking for more. But if you're willing to risk it, I might have a way we could save him.”

“Do you really have to ask? Of course I’ll help! Whatever you need, Mac, you can count on me.”

“I was hoping you'd say that. A few months before we met, I bumped into a guy named Sinclair who claimed his buddy caught some kind of a disease. I thought he was wasting my time until he said his partner broke out in blue boils. They dug up information about a cure at a place called Med-Tek Research. They even managed to grab the building's lockdown security codes. Unfortunately, Sinclair's buddy died before they were able to break into the facility. I mean, there's no way that's a coincidence, right? Med-Tek has to be the place.”

“Don't give up hope. If there's a cure, we'll find it. I promise.”

“Thanks, partner. When you're ready, just take us out there... I have all of the codes we need to get through their security. What you're doing and everything you’ve already done... no one's ever cared that much about me before. Even if it takes me the rest of my life... I'll repay this debt to you, I swear it.”

“There’s no debt between us, Robert. Not now, not ever. Let’s get you patched up properly then we can search Med-Tek, how does that sound?”

“It’s more than I could ever wish for, Gwen. Thank you.”

 

********************************

 

A vertibird ride later, MacCready found himself on a stretcher within the Prydwen. Knight-Captain Cade was getting ready to finish what Gwendolyn had started back in Somerville Place, placing some sort of mask over his patient’s mouth. 

“This is not shoddy work. I can not help but be impressed with Knight Clark’s abilities. You said that she had only observed a similar procedure before?”

“Yeah, doc, that’s what I got from her.”

“Now, if we are to be realistic, it’s also not any form of great procedure either. Her suture work leaves a lot to be desired and-”

“Just, please fix me up, doc. Less talking, more doing.”

“Alright, young man, no need to be impatient. This gas that was acquired in the Medford Memorial Hospital by our troops should put you under quite quickly. Just breath in slowly.”

It took two or three deep breaths before the gas made him fall asleep for a while. In his dreams, the usual scenario repeated itself.  _ He was in a metro tunnel, covered in blood, holding a small bundle to his chest. He was running aimlessly in the dark, trying to avoid an invisible opponent until the bundle he held was ripped from his grasp by deformed hands. He screamed without any voice, he cried without any tears. The next instant, an overbearing light blinded him, followed by hordes of ghouls crashing into and around him. His entire chest was ripped apart, his organs falling out of his exposed skeleton. _ It was his most common nightmare, thought this time, it ended differently.  _ He saw Gwendolyn walking towards him, a revolver in hand. Her face was covered in dust and soot as well as some strange tribal paint. She lifted the gun to his head and spoke without him hearing anything. She shot him in his forehead, the violent impact sending him flying backwards. Before his eyes closed, he saw her put to gun in her mouth and fire. _

His body felt unresponsive and heavy, probably due to the lingering effects of the gas that Cade had administered on him. He furiously tried to move his limbs while flailing his head from side to side, trying to take in all the details of his environment. He was definitely still on the stretcher he had been before. The only new element around him was an upset Gwendolyn by his side, trying to calm him down.

“Hey, Mac, it’s okay, don’t panic. You just woke up. Listen to my voice, you’re alright. You’re safe.”

He mouthed what he meant to say without any sound coming from his throat.

“Shh, shh, you’re fine, Robert. Try to calm your breathing, okay?”

He complied, forcing body to stop hyperventilating. In response, Gwendolyn offered him her trademark supportive smile. She took hold of his right hand, a soothing sensation enveloping his being.

“You’re going to be alright. Cade is going to keep you here for a day or two to make sure that the big stimpacks he administered finish the scarring process. Then, we’ll move out and head for Med-Tek. Does that sound good for you?”

He nodded approvingly. He was in no rush to get out of bed for the moment. After all, he still couldn’t even feel his legs.

“I’ll stay with you the whole time, okay? I’m not about to leave your side. You told me before that being alone was the furthest thing from your mind, yeah? Well, I hope you like my company because I swear to you that I’m not going to leave you or dismiss you again.”

He planted his eyes into hers to drink in her sincerity. Still voiceless, he mouthed the word why.

“Why? Gee, I don’t know, because we’re friends and I want to be able to protect you. You called me your partner. Partners don’t give up on each other in my world. Besides saving my son, protecting my friends has always been priority number one, and you’re no exception.”

Her plea moved him. If she could help it, he would never feel loneliness eat away at his resolve anymore. He couldn’t help but smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your kind words and I hope that my writing is satisfactory enough for you guys and gals. Rewriting and polishing will commence shortly for all previous chapters.  
> Also, I'm currently writing the last chapter of Part 1 of Whispers and Bullets! The end is nigh and I hope you'll check out Part 2 when that comes out.


	18. Rehabilitation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where heated heads butt each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late upload! Finals are getting the better of me a little bit~

MacCready’s shoulder was healing slowly but surely, in part due to the obscene amount of stimpacks Knight-Captain Cade administered at regular intervals on the affected region. He couldn’t help but wonder how it was that the self-obsessed Brotherhood would bother wasting resources on any civilian, let alone a known mercenary. It obviously had to be the work of his guardian angel. His debts towards Gwendolyn were definitely accumulating much faster than he had ever wished they would. There was nothing in the world he hated more than to be in debt, especially if it was towards someone he actually cared about. Unfortunately, all he could really do, even after two days of convalescence, was to sit up in bed and eat, a situation that afforded him no peace of mind. 

Gwen was absent during most of the day, presumably because she was either on a short mission or in Arthur Maxson’s private quarters. Yet, despite her busy schedule, she always came by to have dinner with her bedridden friend, even going as far as to wait out the night with him. They both barely slept anymore, him due to his discomfort, her because of some nebulous reason or another. From what MacCready could tell, she was deteriorating at an alarming rate, her skin glossy and almost transparent, her eyes sunken into her skull, her smile growing more forced everytime she flashed it at him. In response, he could only feel sorrow.

On the evening of his third day aboard the Prydwen, Gwendolyn was nowhere to be seen, missing their usual dinner date. Worried, Robert tried to hatch a plan to escape from Cade’s confinement in the hopes of finding his companion somewhere in the bowels of the flying metallic whale he was trapped in.  _ Cade goes to the mess hall at 8 p.m. During that time, most patrols are concentrated around the mess hall and the supply store, probably trying to get some booze or something. That gives me about ten minutes to slip away before anyone notices. Where could Gwen be… Maxson’s? Alright, Cade is about to leave, time to move. _

The moment his medusa-esque doctor left the infirmary, MacCready hopped out of his stretcher. When his feet touched the ground, his muscles contracted and ached like a rusted-out Protectron, barely allowing him to move for a minute until his legs adjusted themselves. Careful and silent steps would end up being a challenge but, at this point, he had no choice other than to take it on. Sneaking around the infirmary wall and into the claustrophobic hallway connecting all of the lower levels of the Prydwen ended up being more difficult than anticipated. Patrols, lonesome officers and busy scribes still went about their business, overcrowding the catwalk. MacCready stuck out like a sore thumb amidst the sea of orange flight suits and Power Armors. His olive army pants and white undershirt made for poor camouflage. Taking his time, hiding out in the elusive patches of shadow among the fluorescent bulbs casting unflattering light over everything, he found a way to finally get to Elder Maxson’s private quarters. The dead end was barren of guards, but not of noise. A loud conversation between the Brotherhood leader and someone he identified as Gwendolyn was heating up. Pressing his ear to the large metallic hatch let him catch small scraps of voices.

“I won’t do that!” pleaded Gwendolyn.

“It’s not an order you are at liberty to refuse.”

“Are you threatening me, Arthur?”

“Never. I do value my life.”

“Well aren’t you being well-behaved today. For that, I’ll think about it. That’s all I can give you right now.”

“I have no choice but to accept your indecision for now. I will be expecting your reply before you leave the Prydwen.”

“Alright, I get it. Oh fuck, I gotta go! It’s already so late.”

“Your mercenary still requires medical attention? You are aware that we are struggling to obtain enough supplies for our own soldiers, I hope?”

“I’ve been supplying Cade with my own stock of meds. Not a single Brotherhood stimpack was used on my friend.”

“How thoughtful, General.”

“And how jackass of you, Elder, to think I’d steal from your personal stash to heal someone in need.”

“Gwendolyn, I’m trying to get enough overhead for this entire war. If we stopped and gave out our lifeline of supplies to every single settler in the Commonwealth, the Institute would easily be able to crush us. We cannot afford to lose.”

“Well, Arthur, my dear, if you want to stay afloat above my land, you’re going to have to play fair with us. If you want me to have my people provide food for your troops, you’re going to give us something of equivalent value in exchange. I won’t let Teagan extort the people of the Commonwealth any longer.”

“I’ve already apologized for Proctor Teagan’s actions.”

“And yet he’s still as smug as a bug in a rug in his stupid cage.”

“We have yet to select the appropriate disciplinary action for his transgression. Frankly speaking, he was acting within the guidelines of the Brotherhood.”

“Then you’re going to change your guidelines because I won’t stand for it.”

“I understand. Now go to your mercenary.”

“Don’t just dismiss me like that, you asshole. You know you need me. And if you want me, you'll have to take a step back and take a good long look at yourself. Just get Ingram to build the machine I need, then we’ll talk further.”

“Watch your tone,  _ Knight _ .”

“Whatever,  _ King _ Arthur.”

MacCready got himself out of the way of the furiously swinging hatch just in time. Gwendolyn huffed in annoyance as she came out of the room. She was wearing her trademark vault suit, but this time it was zipped down, revealing her uncovered cleavage. The way it revealed so much skin, to the point that you could see the demarcation between her chest and her breasts… It confused Robert. Were her visits to Arthur Maxson’s quarters really for business or did it also include pleasure? The thought grated on him much further than he was willing to admit.

“Hey, Gwen?”

“What? Who? Mac? What are you doing out of bed? Cade didn’t release you from his overprotective grasp, did he now?”

“No… No, I just couldn’t take being cooped up in there anymore. And you were so late, I got a little worried.”

“Aww Robert! That’s so sweet of you! How about we go to the forecastle to eat?”

“Alright! Anywhere but that infirmary.”

Gwen chuckled. “I knew you’d like that idea.”

She gently took his hand and guided him to the large ladder leading to the command deck. If he was accompanied by her, nobody would even dare to lift an eyebrow at the fact that he was up and about. On the command deck, Gwendolyn pulled him to her as she proceeded to the lower level of the deck. A single hatch awaited them, and on the other side, the entire Commonwealth stretched below them. The sight flabbergasted the young man. That night, the sky was devoid of clouds, letting the starry Milky Way cast its light onto the two of them. In fact, the dark veil was so crisp and clear of any disturbance that MacCready could see the faraway lights of Sanctuary.

“This is amazing... I've never seen anything so beautiful.”

“I’m glad you like it. Sit down, I’ll go get us something to eat.”

Robert sat on the cold steel of the balcony. He couldn’t keep his eyes away from the sky. All the individual pale dots of light stretched for an eternity over him, each of them a star looking down on him. The cool night breeze caught itself in his hair which, for once, wasn’t covered by his beloved hat, messing up his lazy hairdo. The cold opened up his appetite, a first since he had been transported to the Prydwen. It also made him shiver. What he wouldn’t give to have his duster again… Unfortunately, the old scrap of cloth had to be discarded due to the extensive damage it had sustained. Just then, the hatch opened again to reveal a smiling Gwendolyn holding two large deathclaw steaks laid on clean yellow plates with a side of steaming carrots. Her grand entrance made him salivate.

“Here’s the meat of a fallen foe to quench our thirst for blood,” sang the woman.

“Haven’t eaten anything that looked this good in I don’t know how long. Thanks.”

“Dig in, my dear,” she said when she handed him the plate. 

The two of them voraciously ate while dangling their legs off the railing of the forecastle’s balcony. The warm tender meat heated both of their bodies up, but they still huddled together to face the icy winds of the night. 

“Hey, I’m sorry I couldn’t save your duster… There really wasn’t much left.”

“I’m gonna miss that old coat.”

“Yeah… it looked pretty awesome on you.”

“You think?”

“Y-yeah. Hey, I know it’s not the same, but I got you a replacement at Teagan’s cage. I hope you like it.”

She draped her companion’s shaky shoulders with a leather jacket lined with fleece, a rare material in the Commonwealth. It was warm and protective, exactly what his broken body needed.

“Aww, you shouldn’t have.”

“Oh no, I clearly should have. You lost almost everything back there in the Glowing Sea, even your life. I simply couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t at least try to help you out in your time of need. Do you like it?”

“Yeah, it’s really nice. A bit too fancy for my  _ handsome rogue _ look, but it’ll do.”

“Oh really now?” Gwendolyn was giggling under her breath. “Well excuse me, mister handsome, for I have not provided a shitty enough coat!”

MacCready laughed in response. It was good to be back to their casual banter. Still, the gnawing pain of his ever-increasing debt towards Gwendolyn was hindering his happiness. Unaware, she pulled out a flask from her hip pouch and offered it to him, which he promptly accepted. Taking a swig, the burning liquid, some concentrated brandy, alleviated his thoughts.

“Are you having difficulties with Maxson? That little king of the skies seems like such a jerk.”

“You said it right. He thinks his soldiers and himself so fucking superior to all of us on the ground. He even had officers going to Minutemen farms to fucking extort them! And he dared play the clueless card to my face. MY FACE. I can’t believe he would dare do that when I’m the fucking General of all people.”

“Well, well, well, you seem to be coming around on this whole General business, aren’t you?”

“Okay look, I really care for the people that we help. I really want them to have better lives and I’m putting all of my ressources towards giving them whatever they need. But it’s so much pressure. They all think I’m some kind of god or something… Fuck, don’t they see that I’m clearly not? I’m just a potty-mouthed idiot like anybody else.”

“Maybe. Or maybe you’re the only one that actually tries to care, for once. I can’t really… agree to that but hey, you do you. I’d rather keep those caps and supplies for us.”

Gwendolyn turned towards Robert, a pleading look in her eyes. “Why do you still stick with me? You were right, back at Virgil’s. My plans and insane actions are most likely going to end up killing you. I- I feel terrible about it, but you made me realize that it’s entirely possible. So, why are you still being so nice to me?”

“Gwen, I- you’re my only friend. You’re the only person out there I can trust. Without you, I don’t know what I would-”

She placed her lips on his forehead in a chaste kiss. The sudden proximity and contact flustered MacCready to no end, causing him to lose his ability to speak. A soft, unsure hand took hold of his jaw, caressing his goatee with the thumb. She pulled her lips away, taking back the warm she had bestowed upon him before placing her own forehead to his.

“Thank you, Robert. I wouldn’t know what to do without you either. Everything has been so chaotic for me and… well, you keep me grounded through it all.”

They stayed that way, their heads together, for a little while. To MacCready, that moment could never be long enough to satisfy him. He viewed it as a promise of sorts. A promise to remain true to each other, to accomplish their goals together, to always be there for one another. He hadn’t been privy to such intimacy with anyone in his life except with his deceased wife. Just the fact that Gwendolyn reciprocated his feelings, reciprocated his friendship and commitment towards her, made him happy beyond what words could ever describe. They were a team, through and through. 

She eventually pulled away and offered him a supportive hand.

“Come on, let’s get you back in bed. Cade actually told me this morning that you should be cleared from his infirmary tomorrow. He also said that your wound will probably still be a bit tender for a while and to try not to push yourself too much.”

“Please help me through Med-Tek when I get discharged. I have to do it sooner than later.”

“Well, alright, but you’ll have to remain in the back, okay? Let me take the brunt of whatever we’re going to find in there.”

He sighed in response. “The place is crawling with ferals. Last time I went, they almost killed me. Just, please be careful when we get in there. I don’t want a repeat of the Glowing Sea either.”

“You have my word, RJ. I’ll come check up on you by noon with our duffles ready to go.”

“Okay boss.”

“I’m not your boss anymore, silly.”

“Doesn’t matter. In a way, you’ll always be my boss after everything that happened. You point and I’ll shoot. Pretty simply arrangement, right?”

Hand in hand, they were swallowed back into the Prydwen, leaving the forecastle behind.

 

********************************

 

Gwendolyn was still nowhere to be seen by the time MacCready was discharged from Cade’s care. Since they were about to leave the Prydwen, Elder Maxson had requested she join him in his quarters for further negotiations. Somehow, they had been at it for hours now, from as early as six in the morning all the way until noon. They had both gotten fairly heated in the exchange, as they usually did. Unfortunately, this time around, they had attracted quite an audience piled up in the cul de sac.

“I won’t let you conscript my people!”

“I’m only offering to let them live for more than farming and dying at the hands of raiders.”

“How fucking dare you! Compared to you, I get out there and protect those people. There haven’t been any casualties in months.”

“Regardless, with the Brotherhood, they could aspire to be more than dirty peasants.”

A sound of shattering glass erupted in between arguments. MacCready sought to reach the door separating him from Gwendolyn, but to no avail. The soldiers refused to give way.

“I can and will have you arrested for such insubordination, Knight!”

“Just fucking try, you prick! King my ass, you’re a fucking tyrant! FUCK YOU MAXSON. I gave you everything your big dick wanted already! I won’t give you my people for you to just massacre them!”

“Is that really what you think of me? A heartless tyrant?”

“YES! YOU SENT ME TO DIE IN THE GLOWING SEA, YOU SENT ME TO DIE AT THE HANDS OF A COURSER. NOW YOU WANT TO SEND MY PEOPLE TO DIE FOR YOUR HORRIBLE CAUSE!”

“The liberation of the Commonwealth is a just cause! You said so yourself in the past!”

“WHAT THE COMMONWEALTH NEEDS NOW IS TO BE LIBERATED FROM YOU!”

The distinct sound of skin whipping skin followed by a body falling to the ground sent MacCready into a frenzy. No longer able to maintain his composure, he lunged into the melee of soldiers until he reached the heavy iron door separating the two authority figures from the masses. Even as soldiers tried to stop and apprehend him, Robert took hold of the valve, spinning it with all of his might to unlock the Elder’s private quarters. Once opened, the young man dove into the room and sealed it back behind him as quickly as humanly possible. 

Gwendolyn was on the floor, shock spread across her battered features. The Elder, in his rage, had slapped her hard enough to send her to the ground. Shock had also engulfed the large man’s eyes, paired with quivering lips and burgundy cheeks.

“Gwen,” MacCready called out as he plunged to her side, a protective arm wrapping itself around her frozen shoulders.

“Clark… Clark, I-”

“Shut up, Arthur. Just, shut up,” murmured Gwendolyn as she got back to her feet. “Get the teleporter built. I’ll be back in a week.”

“What about our agreements?” interrogated the Elder.

“I’ll have the farms we discussed send food to the airport. I’ll also send whatever chems and medical supplies we can spare. Expect an envoy by the end of the week with a written contract.”

“Fine. You may leave.”

“Come on Gwen,” whispered MacCready. “Let’s get you out of there.”

He escorted his companion to the Flight Deck, passing by gossiping Brotherhood soldiers and disapproving officers. He then left her behind to go pick up their duffle bags. When MacCready came back, Gwendolyn was longingly staring at the skyline of destroyed buildings that still stood downtown, a Jet inhaler in hand.

“Doing some Jet without me?”

Gwen jumped at his return, helplessly trying to hide the empty container behind her back. “I- maybe? Didn’t know you wanted any?”

“It’s fine, boss. You had a rough time out there. You definitely deserve a break.”

“Do you think I’m doing the right thing, or did I just sell off some of my Minutemen to the devil?”

“Elder Maxson is probably evil, yeah, but I don’t think you sold anyone to him. If anything, you caused a little scene and proved that he’s a twisted ass- I mean a twisted jerk.”

“You said that right. Let’s head to Med-Tek. I want to get as far away from here as possible.”

The two of them left the Prydwen behind. They went to the ground aboard a vertibird whose pilot had somehow already been told of the confrontation between his superior and Gwendolyn. They left the airport on foot among a sea of glares and huffs from the stationed forces. They made their way to a Minutemen settlement named County Crossing. The whole time, MacCready felt like Gwendolyn was undergoing a walk of shame, ostracized by who she thought were her people. Somehow, everyone in the small community caught on to the situation fairly quickly, steering clear of the frowning woman. She was giving off the aura of an angered yao guai while simultaneously looking absolutely miserable. 

The sun was declining on the horizon when Gwendolyn allowed herself to set up a campfire to eat. By the time this occurred, they had already left County Crossing despite MacCready’s insistence on staying in a secure location. According to the mercenary, they were currently in a Gunner hotspot, hiding underneath a crumbling overpass. Somewhere along the way, Gwendolyn had stopped caring about their safety in the matter. Concerned, the young man finally look hold of her shoulder while she was staring off into the distance.

“Are you alright? You’ve been really weird since the Prydwen.”

“Yes, I’m good.”

“Right now, you are the least convincing you’ve ever been since I’ve met you.”

She turned to look at him, her hazel eyes greyed and distant. She stared into his own, making him incredibly uncomfortable. Something was definitely eating her alive.

“Want some Jet?”

Surprised, MacCready recoiled. “Are you sure? I- I mean I won’t say no to a nice high, but you sure that’s what you really need right now?”

Not acknowledging his response, Gwendolyn pulled out two inhalers, throwing one of them to him. She breathed in the precious gaz immediately, hungering for the drug to hit her lungs. She kept the device cradled to her face as a small smile took hold of her lips.


	19. Med-Tek

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where the duo explores Med-Tek research

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for not updating last week! Got a bit sick due to the stress of my finals! Thank you so much for being patient.  
> As an apology, I'll upload the next chapter which should be coming out today this Saturday. :)  
> Also, thank you again so damn much for your comments! You've no idea how incredible it is that anyone liked what I created and I shall be smiling like a dummy for the rest of the day!

The night had been long and filled with paranoia. Gwendolyn had spent the whole night drinking whatever plagued her mind away, wasting some good bottles of bourbon in the process. Such a precious alcohol was not meant to be chugged, thought MacCready. He had spent most of the night trying to occupy his hands and stay his whirling thoughts. He was doubting the willingness of his companion to help and shoulder him through Med-Tek. To him, nobody in their right mind would get high and drunk the night before such a dangerous endeavour. Nevertheless, he had nobody else to rely on, nobody else to call a friend, so he would have to deal with whatever was wrong with her in the morning. 

Robert had been able to sleep for an hour or two before sunrise, barely enough time to regain any energy or determination for the challenge ahead. When he awoke, he immediately spiralled into a panic.  _ Where is she?! Where is Gwen? Did she really just- no, she’s not that retarded. She’d never leave me out here to die… would she? She’s completely out of her mind, but she can’t already be that far gone. _

The violent sound of slugs escaping a shotgun’s barrel got him to his feet against his will. He tripped over himself, trying desperately to gain speed in his unrestrained run towards the foreboding sound. The young man found the culprit: a swearing Gwendolyn shooting at a dead brahmin.

“You, fuck you. Stupid-ass cow. I’m the fucking General, ya understand?! So get out my fucking way!”

The frail-looking woman was barely staying upright, swinging her weapon at the mangled corpse. When her friend arrived on the scene, she spun around, pointing the threatening double barrel shotgun at him.

“What you want?”

Exasperated yet desperately trying to remain calm, MacCready approached Gwendolyn at a snail’s pace. “Just put the gun down, Gwen. I’m just checking on you.”

Seemingly confused, she lowered the barrel to the ground. “What you doing here, RJ?”

“I don’t know, Gwen. Maybe I was just freaked out that you left camp without telling me? Maybe I was scared you’d been taken? Quit firing before you shoot something you'll regret.”

“Calm your sweet tits, mate. I just went around to… to…” 

Gwendolyn’s demeanor completely changed from drunk bravado to that of a child scared of being reprimanded. Regardless, she dropped her gun to the ground and walked towards her companion, arms crossed. Before she passed by him, Robert gently barred her path, inviting her into his arms.

“What’s going on with you, Gwen? I’ve never seen you like this…”

“I just- I have to be stronger, better, more ruthless or everyone will die. I’m just… I’m scared, is all,” she whimpered, her head buried in Robert’s shoulder.

“Look, if anything’s on your mind, just let me know. Doesn’t matter what or when. Understand?” 

Gwendolyn weakly nodded while he closed his outstretched arms around her shivering body. She felt as cold as death itself on top of still being underweight. Whatever bothered her was eating her alive. In his embrace, Gwen kept scratching at her left arm, the telltale sign that she might have used an injectable chem of some kind.

“Gwen, what did you take?”

“Wh-what are you talking abo-”

MacCready, unwilling to play dumb, interrupted her. “What chem did you inject? Just be honest because I’ll find out one way or another.”

Pure shame spread on her pale face before she answered in a hushed whisper. “Psycho.”

“Chems are just gonna drag you down. Trust me. You’ve already taken enough Jet as it is, don’t go mixing it with Psycho.”

Before she could answer, he let go of her body to grab onto her arm and drag her back to camp. She didn’t protest. Back at camp, MacCready got a fire going and quickly reheated some mongrel chops. When Gwen made no effort to grab herself a portion, he forcefully handed her a plate. There was no way he was going into Med-Tek with her if she was high as a kite  _ and _ hungry. The cooked meat was eaten slowly, almost as if such a task was simply too demanding for the deteriorating woman. This gave the mercenary plenty of time to pack up and get the both of them ready for the short road to Med-Tek. An awkward silence held both partners apart for the rest of the trip.

 

********************************

 

They arrived at the pre-war medical facility at 10 a.m. They had long left their camp when Gwendolyn finally sobered up enough for her rationality to return. Med-Tek Research was an imposing structure with its own underground parking garage, the den of many creatures including ghouls. All MacCready truly knew about the edifice was that it was supposed to contain his son’s cure. He was utterly uninterested in any other facts about the derelict pharmaceutical research center. Still, Gwendolyn seemed eager to share her knowledge of it with him.

“Before the Great War, some investigative journalists were certain that some shifty deals were happening here. Considering what Vault-Tek did in their vaults, I wouldn’t be surprised if we found nightmares in there. They did own Med-Tek as well.”

“Med-Tek Research. I hope Sinclair's information pays off. Let's head inside and grab that cure.”

“Of course.”

The two of them pried the large metallic doors of the facility open. They were greeted with bountiful amounts of dust and soot. The reception area had remained mostly undisturbed since the fall of mankind. Large sculptures lined the walls of the open area, reminding MacCready of Underworld, a ghoul community he had encountered in his travels in the Capital Wasteland. Such architecture still freaked him out to this day. While her companion searched the multiple cabinets and containers, Gwendolyn wasted no time in getting accustomed with the reception desk terminal, typing away on the crumbling keyboard. MacCready, as was usual for him, was disinterested.  _ Always thought terminals were a waste of time. Can’t get caps out of them. _ When his partner got up from the desk, they made their way to the furthest wall of the room in search of an elevator or some stairs. 

“All right, let's find that executive terminal. Sinclair said that's the only way we can override the facility's lockdown.”

“Executive… That would have to be in an office upstairs. Let’s go.”

They both sneaked around the many rooms filled with individual cubicles until they found a flight of stairs that led them into yet more cubicle-filled rooms. This time around, however, they also contained ghouls. 

Gwendolyn took point, her right fist in the air. She intended on taking down as many of the walking corpses as possible before they noticed their presence. She walked in a crouch among the dirty computer desks, her shishkebab at the ready. The woman confidently dispatched four ghouls, stabbing each gargling creature in the nape of their neck, the long blade piercing the decomposing flesh through and through. MacCready had stayed in the back and was observing the other ghouls on the mezzanine overlooking the room through the scope of his rifle. They had remained mostly oblivious to Gwendolyn’s carnage, until she screamed at the top of her lungs.

“FUCKING KILL!”

Her deranged scream sent the ghoulish platoon into a frenzy, as they dove off the mezzanine to attack her. She bellowed at the snarling corpses, a psychotic smile distorting her features. As her assailants jumped towards her, she wildly swung her flaming blade, severing limb and flesh in the melee. Dark blood covered her from head to toe as she decapitated the ghouls lunging for the exposed flesh of her face and neck. MacCready scrambled to shoot off the remaining ghouls while his partner simply laughed maniacally. When the dust settled again on the newly christened battlefield, he finally understood what had truly happened. 

“Gwen! What the hell is wrong with you? Why did you inject even more Psycho?!”

“It’s easier to get the ghouls towards us than be ambushed. This way, we know they’re all dead in the ground.”

Anger took hold of the young man at her lack of answers, leading him to violently take hold of Gwendolyn’s shoulders. “Are you trying to piss me off? Because you’re doing a hell of a job by doing all of this. Do you seriously want to get killed?”

“All I’m trying to do is protect you. You’re hurt and tired. Your chances of survival if you get ambushed by a ghoul hidden in the shadows are slim at best. I simply acted strategically to give us a better chance of curing your son. Is that not enough for you?”

“Stop pretending you have all of this planned out. You’re insulting my intelligence.”

“I’m doing the best I can, RJ.”

“No you’re not” he frowned in response. “When did you start taking chems, anyways? What are you even on right now?”

“Since finding Virgil with Hancock. I normally take some Jet, Psycho and Buffout, depending on how I feel. It helps me stay up and about, alert and capable. How do you think I endured Maxson’s shit, or Preston’s demands? Chems and booze are the only thing keeping me from…”

“From what?”

“Mistakes. From making mistakes. Anyhow, let’s keep going. The cure won’t find itself,” she said as she slipped away from his grasp. 

Unsure what to think of his partner anymore, MacCready fell silent.

When they found the executive terminal, Robert gave up Sinclair’s password to Gwendolyn. She lifted the lockdown the facility had been under for the last two centuries, putting the two of them that much closer from finding Duncan’s cure. Exhilarated, MacCready eagerly pressed on despite how dangerously unstable his partner had become. They fought their way through an air lock, multiple laboratories and corridors until they arrived in what seemed like an underground holding facility. Two machine gun turrets were still active, pelting their position. Gwendolyn put her shotgun away before turning towards her companion.

“There’s a terminal on the other side of the walkway that probably controls these damn turrets. I’m gonna rush in and shut them down. Before you protest, we both know this is the only way we’re getting further in this nightmare of a facility. Hold onto my things.”

“Gwen, I- well alright. Run as fast as you can.”

Gwendolyn shed her duffle bag and heavy combat armor, only her vault-suit remaining as minimal protection. She got ready for the sprint of her life but stayed frozen in place. She took a deep breath, grunted, shook her head, waved her hand at Robert, then ran. The moment she appeared on the walkway, both turrets focused their attention on her. Bullets ricocheted off the metal railing, barely missing the blue blur. MacCready held his breath the entire time, eyes fixed on Gwendolyn’s backside. His perception of time itself was distorted, every second stretched to an infinity. It was as if he could see every single bullet slowly making its way to his boss, their paths a red highlight in his vision, narrowly avoiding her moving arms and legs, until the inevitable happened. Gwendolyn yelped in pain as she rolled to safety in the encased office at the end of the walkway. 

“You okay?!”

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine! Just got shot in the arm a bit, that’s it. Let me kill the turrets for you.”

She struggled back on her feet and started hacking into the terminal she had previously pointed out. The turrets had thankfully fallen back into silence, indicating that the two of them were out of harm’s way. 

“Alright, come on over, Mac!”

“Damn Gwen, that was incredible. Your arm okay?”

“Yeah, nothing a stimpack can’t fix for now. Remind me to get Curie to look at it when we get out of here. There is definitely a bullet still stuck in there.”

“So, where to next?”

“I’m not too sure. I guess I can open the containment cells and hope that one of them can lead us to the cure. Get ready for a bit of a fight.”

“Yes, ma’am! Ready when you are.”

A loud clicking noise, quickly followed by the sound of sliding doors, let the both of them know that the previously contained ghouls would be upon them shortly. On cue, ghouls funneled out of their individual cells, snarling. MacCready slowly but surely fired Savior, dropping ghouls one after the other until they finally caught on to what was happening to them. The leftover enemies tripped over themselves to make their way to the two companions, only to find their demise at the end of Gwendolyn’s blade. When they worked in tandem, they made for an astonishingly deadly team. 

“Damn... and I was just starting to have fun,” said MacCready.

“Well, no worries. I’m sure we’ll find some more reanimated corpses on our way down. This way! I think I see a cell where the floor’s completely collapsed.”

 

********************************

 

The pair fought off many more ghouls and descended even further into the earth until they found a suspiciously well-guarded laboratory. If any kind of secret cure was hidden within the building, it had to be there. Hopeful, MacCready let Gwendolyn work her magic on the terminal resting on a wall next to the scientific room’s heavy metal door. Still, he couldn’t help but voice his disgust at their surroundings.

“Ugh... smells horrible. I think we're the first ones down here in a long time. The sooner we find that cure, the sooner we can get the heck out of here.”

“Well, if it’s anywhere, it’s in here. There’s a bunch of fridges and chemical containers all over the place. Alright, let me open up this door.”

The metallic doors shifted to the side, revealing a platoon of ghouls awaiting their deaths at the hands of the mercenary. Without hesitation, he shot the first one brave enough to exit the laboratory. Gwendolyn jogged to his position, assisting in the carnage with her 10mm pistol. Surprisingly, the small room contained at least eight ghouls, now all piled up in a gory mess in front of them. They gave each other a satisfied look, both grinning from ear to ear. 

“Alright Gwen, I’m counting on you. I never could wrap my head around all this science stuff. I have no idea what any of it does,” he mused while gesturing for his companion to enter the lab.

“Ladies first, am I right? Let me see what’s in there.”

Gwendolyn walked nonchalantly into the laboratory, taking in the computers and consoles spread all over the place. MacCready followed close behind. To stay out of his partner’s way, he decided to look inside the myriad of fridges lining the leftmost wall of the room. Before he could start his search, an ominous clicking sound worried him.

He turned to look at Gwen. “Ummm, should that thing on your wrist be clicking that much?”

“Something’s not right. Not right at all,” she answered, slowly backing away from the terminal she had been looking at.

A low gargle emanated from the far right of the laboratory, followed by a sickly glow and the sound of shifting rubble.

“Gwen, get back here! Glowing one!”

“Oh fuck! What a nasty looking thing!”

She obeyed and ran to his side, her 10mm pistol already back in hand. A lumbering, greenish, glowing ghoul emerged from behind a row of fridges that had been moved back in the day. Despite all the dirt that covered it, the Glowing one blinded the both of them with its fluorescence. Not wasting another precious moment, Gwendolyn opened fire upon the creature and her bullets spawned small squirts of green incandescent blood whenever they pierced the decomposing flesh of her enemy. MacCready did much of the same, aiming for the walking corpse’s head. It soaked up every projectile fired its way, barely flinching from any of them. Suddenly, it stopped in its tracks and raised its gnarly arms to the ceiling. Green dust gathered around it before pulsing outwards, dousing both Gwendolyn and Robert in radiation. More growls joined the Glowing One.

“What?! They can revive dead ghouls? What kind of shit is that?” panicked Gwendolyn.

“Just keep firing!” 

Back to back, they fired as many rounds as they could in the ghouls surrounding them. Despite all the lead they had been pumped with, the Glowing one and a gangrenous ghoul that had been brought back from the dead remained. The mangled creatures lunged onto the two of them. In a split second before impact, Gwendolyn used all of her strength to push MacCready away from the fray. 

His eyes grew wide in stupor as his body hit the dusty ground. He immediately twisted his head around to witness the Glowing one clash with Gwendolyn, who had somehow been able to stop the ghoul’s assault with her forearms in a defensive position. The gangrenous ghoul, undeterred, mercilessly swiped at her back with its sharp claw-like nails, ripping the leather padding of her combat armor and the backside of her vault suit. Using her pinned arms, the woman pushed away the Glowing one, giving her enough room to pull out her shishkebab as the foe at her back slashed her exposed skin once more. In a swift pirouette, Gwen swung the blazing blade around herself and inflicted a deep cut upon the resurrected ghoul’s torso. Unfortunately, her wide swing left an opening for the Glowing one to grope her shoulders with its hands and start looking for a large enough area to take a bite. The rotten teeth pierced the soft leather of her vault suit, drawing crimson blood. Still, Gwendolyn sported a determined look, her own teeth clenched. She elbowed the Glowing one’s head from behind using her left arm, prompting the creature to loosen its grip. She ungracefully spun on her heel, almost losing balance, before planting her sword into its guts. 

Back on his feet, MacCready unsheathed his combat knife and planted it in the gangrenous ghoul’s decaying skull. Mortally wounded, it fell on the ground, dead once again and, this time, for good. Gwendolyn had also sent the Glowing one into the dirt, her blade and torso covered in fluorescent green blood. 

“Damn it,” she exclaimed. “They ruined my vault suit!”

“You took quite a beating there. Are you feeling alright?”

She turned to her friend, sadness on her tired features. “I really liked my vault suit… Danse even stitched it up for me.”

“It’s just some blue leather. Get over it.”

“How insensitive! Fine, whatever, let’s find that Prevent.”

“Prevent?”

“Yeah, that’s what the terminal said is hidden in here. I think it’ll cure your son.”

They both searched the accumulated junk and rubble for a while. The scuffle had disturbed most of their surroundings. During his search, the mercenary had obtained numerous chems which he now tried to keep away from his partner. He even stashed a large amount of blood bags at Gwendolyn’s demand and despite his skepticism.  _ It's going to be tough finding anyone who trusts these blood packs. Who knows how long they've been sitting here? _ Frustrated that he couldn’t find anything that remotely resembled  some kind of cure, he stepped out of the laboratory. There was so much dust in the air of the room that he felt encompassed in mist. He kept sneezing, to his friend’s delight.

“Damn dust is going right up my nose.”

“Your sneezes are so damn cute, Mac,” giggled Gwendolyn, only raising the young man’s frustration.

He huffed. “Did you find anything or has all of this trouble been a waste of time?”

“Let me… Yeah, I think this is it!”

She stepped out of the laboratory and handed MacCready a large self-contained orange syringe.

“Here you go, Mac.”

He turned the plastic container in his fingers in awe, beholding the bright bold letters adorning it.

“We did it... holy crap, we actually did it! We just gave Duncan a fighting chance to live. I don't know how I'll ever be able to pay you back for this... I owe you big time.”

“You still worried about balancing the books?”

“Always.”

“Well don’t. This is a friendship, not a contract.”

“Yeah, you're right. I'm just used to people taking rather than giving. Maybe one day I'll realize that you're different. Anyway, the last step ahead of us is getting the cure to Daisy in Goodneighbor. With her caravan contacts, she's the only one I trust to get this to Duncan on time. This is the last favor I'm going to ask, I promise. Let's go.”

“Wait” pleaded Gwendolyn, her hand on his shoulder.

“Anything wrong?”

Without answering, she hugged the mercenary as tightly as her injured body could, spreading a delightful warmth in his body.

“I’m so glad we found that cure for Duncan. I’m so happy for you,” she gently whispered in his ear.

“I’m glad too. Heck, I’m more than glad. It's about time things started going my way.”

They stayed in each other’s embrace for another moment before letting go. They headed towards the newly unsealed corridor facing the lab’s entrance. An elevator that would bring them back to the first floor of the facility awaited the both of them. Before stepping in, however, MacCready draped his arm over his partner’s shoulder. He gave her a smug smile.

“I hate to admit it, but I'm starting to enjoy this little deal we have going.”

“Only just starting? Pfft, yeah right.”

“Alright, fine. Don't mind this hike. Helps being in such good company.”

She lowered her head onto his arm, letting a long satisfied sigh escape her chapped lips. “Same.”


	20. Conflicts amongst the Best of Us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where the duo delivers a cure and reconvenes with old friends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for not posting this chapter Saturday two weeks ago like I said I would. I fell very ill and needed a long time to heal.   
> I'm sorry to have disappointed all my readers this way and strive to do better in the future.  
> If my health stays stable like it has been since Monday, I'll post another chapter this weekend.   
> Again, I'm really sorry for disappearing.

The following day, the mercenary and his boss made their way to Goodneighbor, tracing back their steps from Med-Tek Research to County Crossing, then taking the bridge that would lead them to the remains of Weatherby Savings & Loans -or at least what was left of it after the far-fetched voyage of the USS Constitution- passing by Bunker Hill. Indeed, after Gwendolyn’s passage in the neighborhood, no real threats to their safety still dwelled in the shadowed passageways and decrepit buildings. The two of them made their way across another bridge until they found themselves in Railroad territory. Contouring Faneuil Hall to avoid its super mutant infested grounds, they finally made contact with the odd raider gangs roaming the borders of Goodneighbor. A waste of bullets later, MacCready beamed at the glorious neon sign welcoming them in Mayor Hancock’s borough.

They entered through the wooden gate, a waft of the usual mix of puke and piss harassing their noses. After being away from the city for so long, Robert couldn’t help his gagging.  _ I didn’t think I would miss this place but damn, this is freaking disgusting. _ Gwendolyn, the smart-ass she was, had adorned her face of a surgical mask, an attempt at blocking the vile odor. The young man rolled his eyes at her, clearly dishearten that she wouldn’t at least offer him one as well.

The bright toothy smile of a well-known ghoul alleviated his petty troubles.

“MacCready! I haven't seen you in a while. You haven't been avoiding me, have you?”

Daisy leaned on her counter, eyeing him with curiosity. The two centuries old ghoul’s black irises were a welcomed sight to the eager mercenary.  _ This is it. It’s finally happening. _

“Now how could I stay away from someone as cute as you, Daisy?”

“You're a lousy liar, but I'll just play stupid and pretend I don't know that,” she said with a wink. Gwendolyn who had been observing the scene from the doorway, chuckled at the ghoul’s quip before Daisy continued. “So, what do you need?”

“I got it, Daisy,” he started off, voice curbed and shaken by emotion. “I found the cure to Duncan's disease.”

“Oh my god! That's wonderful news. How did you do it? Last time you tried, the ferals almost chewed you to bits.”

“I didn't do it alone. My friend here got me through Med-Tek,” he added, his smile bright and confidant as he pointed to Gwendolyn who simply waved at the ghoul. “Now all I need to do is get the cure into Duncan's hands. Can you help me?”

“Of course, MacCready. You've saved my behind more than once, it's the least I can do.”

Interested in the tidbit of information Daisy had given up, Gwendolyn walked towards the shop’s counter to prod for more. “What did MacCready do to help you out?”

“Running a business in a town like Goodneighbor is a challenge,” Daisy offered. “Let's just say I've had my share of unfriendly customers and MacCready's been there to help me handle the situation.” 

Gwen remained pensive for a brief moment before flashing one of her trademark smiles. “If MacCready trusts you, that's good enough for me.”

“I appreciate that. He's actually not so bad, once you get to know him.” MacCready pinched the bridge of his nose at the obvious attack on his character. A sly smirk painted itself on Daisy’s deformed lips before going back to her default businesslike speech. “I'll get the sample on the first caravan leaving the Commonwealth. The driver owes me a few favors and he's reliable. It will arrive at your homestead in no time, MacCready.”

A wave of blissful relief pooled in Robert’s chest. He’d been right about Daisy; she truly was a good person. “Thanks, you're a doll.” 

The ghoul shifted her delicate features to face Gwendolyn. “Hey, do me a favor.”

“Anything,” the woman replied. 

“Take care of MacCready for me. He's one of the good ones.”

“Don’t I know it.”

Daisy gave MacCready a knowing smile in response to Gwendolyn’s fondness. The mercenary thought the gesture odd, as if the ghoul was privy to information he knew nothing about.

Leaving Daisy’s Discounts behind, Gwen proposed they celebrate the occasion at the Third Rail over drinks. Not one to disappoint, MacCready gladly accepted the invitation. It had been a while since he could simply unwind and live large with his boss, but he had a terrible feeling about it all. To be entirely honest, he thought she was acting strangely. Since the events at Med-Tek, she had not once tried to clean up or find a change of clothes, meaning she simply went about in a ripped vault-suit and slowly healing exposed wounds. Gwendolyn was normally the epitome of cleanliness, always bathing, washing her clothes and even forcing him to do the same once in awhile. Down in the Third Rail, even the least presentable patrons turned to observe her with disapproving stares and clicks of their tongues. Paying no mind, she approached Whitechapel Charlie to request the VIP section be closed off from the other bar flies, a demand he agreed to after accepting her order of booze and chems. 

When the large double doors leading to the VIP section of the bar shut them out from the outside world, Gwendolyn lazily let herself flop down in an armchair.

“Fuck… finally.”

“Finally what,” the young man asked while taking a seat in a chair opposite his boss.

“I don’t think I’ve just had the time to sit down in what feels like an eternity. Any thoughts, Mac? You’ve done it. Found the cure. Saved your son. How does it feel?”

“It… It really doesn’t feel real. I’m not dreaming right?”

“Probably not. How long do you think it’ll take for Daisy’s contact to reach Duncan?”

“If she sends it out today, it might take two weeks or so.”

“Do you plan on… going back home?” Gwendolyn’s smile wavered when she finished her sentence.

“I’d regret it if I did. Honestly, I've been having so much fun out here, I almost forgot about my troubles.”

Gwendolyn got up from her seat and sauntered her way across the room to reach her companion. A delicate hand stretched to reach his cheek, the back of her fingers almost stroking his skin. Goosebumps developed in anticipation of the soft womanly touch.

The VIP section doors slammed opened, prompting an annoyed grunt from Gwendolyn. She removed her presence from MacCready’s side to confront the intruder.

“Get out of here, you-”

A nonchalant raspy voice interrupted her. “Settle down, Sunshine. Just here on some  _ mayoral _ business.” Hancock walked past the still fuming woman into the room, settling down on his usual red couch. “Don’t let me interrupt your little party, Gwen.”

“Ah, so that’s how it is, John? Just going to insert yourself in my things?”

“It’s what I do best. So how was the Glowing Sea,” the ghoul asked, taking out a Jet inhaler from his red coat’s pocket.

“Made it in, made it out. That’s all that matters,” interjected MacCready.  _ I’d rather not let him know about the whole spat Gwen and I went through. I don’t know what the good mayor is thinking but something about him is bothering me… _

“Mac did a good job, if that’s what you’re getting at,” sighed Gwendolyn as she sat down next to Hancock. The ghoul draped his arm over her shoulder, pulling her close to his chest.

“Like I said before, Sunshine, that's a hell of a gun to have at your back.”

“I aim to please,” answered the mercenary, voice oozing with confidence.

“Alright, enough pleasantries, my dear. Why are you walking around my town looking like a half chewed corpse? You okay?”

“Encounter gone wrong and a strong need to drown myself in liquor,” she plainly answered, pouring herself a glass of vodka. “What does it matter? I look on par with the rest of Goodneighbor for once.”

“Tell me who did this, Sunshine. Tell me who needs to meet the business end of my wrath.”

“Calm down, John. Nobody hurt me or anything. What’s with the overprotectiveness all of a sudden, Hancock?”

“You know, you had me worried there.” The mayor gazed at Gwendolyn, desperation and longing clearly visible in his demeanour. His emaciated hand nervously scratched at the nape of his neck. “You disappear for a good two weeks in the Glowing Sea, you reemerge covered in your own blood and wounds. What was I supposed to think, Sunshine? You, you're the best thing I got. I’m not about to let you get killed, you got that? So, let me ask you again, are you okay?” 

Voiceless, Gwendolyn simply embraced the worried ghoul. He pressed his face into her shoulder, gathering her slim figure onto his chest. The sight troubled MacCready. He had never seen the great, unbeatable mayor so emotional in his entire existence. Eventually, Gwen pulled back, the faint glint of tears discernable on her battered features. 

Hancock broke the silence first. “You look like you could use a little pick-me-up, Sunshine.”

“Yeah… Hand me some Jet would you? I need to unwind.”

“Done.”

_ Wow, okay. I’m pretty sure they just forgot I exist. This is getting more awkward by the second. I should just give them some privacy… _

“Want anything, Robert?” 

Surprised by Gwendolyn’s question, he stammered for an instant. “I- uhm. Mentats maybe?”

“You got it, handsome,” she snickered, throwing a pallet of the small pills in his direction.

Gwen downed her glass of vodka, grimacing as the burning liquid rolled down her throat. As for Hancock, he was already floating along the bliss of Jet. Still, his impaired state did not stop the incessant flow of his questioning.

“What are you celebrating exactly, Sunshine?”

“Wanna tell him, Mac?”

“I- We got the cure… for my son. We did it, together.”

Seriousness took hold of the ghoul’s features as he leapt to his feet. Hancock pulled out a switchblade from his sleeve and walked over to MacCready in long strides. The young man, confused and afraid, got up from his seat  and stepped towards the VIP sections entrance. Before long, the ghoul’s boney fingers found purchase on the mercenary’s neck while his switchblade was pressed along his victim’s cheek. Hancock snarled at Robert, barring his surprisingly pristine teeth.

“You’re the reason Gwen is in such a state. You’re the reason she bled. And you look completely unscaved. So, tell me MacCready, what is that about?”

“John, let him go,” sternly asked Gwendolyn that had also risen from her seat.

“Not now Sunshine. I won’t ask again, kid. What happened?”

“Got ambushed by a Glowing one. Gwen… Gwen saved me.”

“John, please,” she pleaded, her voice like silky honey. “He did nothing wrong. Mac is still recovering from an injury. I did what I had to. You know I would do the same for you in a heartbeat. Now, please let go of him. Put the knife away, John…”

“You were supposed to protect her, MacCready. You failed her and you failed me.”

“Mayor Hancock, I did what I-”

Gwendolyn sprung to the ghoul’s side, ripping the blade from his hand. The sudden movement knicked MacCready’s cheek, his warm blood streaking down his face. 

“Hancock, that’s enough! Unhand Mac right now and leave!” 

Hancock let go of the mercenary’s throat at once, swiftly pulling strangled coughs from him. The ghoul mayor spun on his heel to face the woman that had disarmed him.

“My Sunshine-”

“You’ve no right to hurt him. It was me getting hurt or him dying. I shed my blood willingly to save a friend and you know for a fact that I would do the same for you. Leave, John. Leave now.”

Crushed, the mayor made his exit as ordered. The doors now closed yet again, Gwendolyn took hold of the young man’s face, whipping off his own blood with her long, slender fingers. Unwilling to let her sully her hands any longer, Robert took hold of them. He even managed a smile to alleviate her worries as much as he could. Her pearlescent skin was as creamy and silklike in his calloused grip as he remembered. Glistening, her hazel eyes lifted themselves to his, meeting his gaze yet wavering. She seemed to be holding back tears.

“Hey, it’s okay, I’m okay,” he lulled soothingly. MacCready let go of her hands to take in is embrace her trembling body. “Don’t worry about Hancock. He’ll come around I’m sure. Oh boy, with the way he looks at you, there’s no way he’s keeping away for much longer. Don’t worry about him.”

“I know how he feels about me. I know the thoughts he entertains. But enough about that… Let’s get out of here. Goodneighbor already wore out its welcome it seems.”

“Where to?”

“The Castle. You were right. I’m starting to like this whole General thing. It’s about damn time I go assume the position, don’t you think?”

“Sure, sounds great. Just a piece of advice before we go. Get yourself a change of clothes. The whole walking corpse thing isn’t the trendiest look you’ve ever pulled.”

“Fine. Pit stop at Daisy’s then we leave.”

As she left his vicinity to sling her duffle bag across her back, MacCready placed his hand onto her arm. She looked behind her shoulder. “One more thing, Gwen. Thanks for standing up for me.”

“Anytime, partner.”

 

********************************

 

A victorious walk. That’s all this could be described as. Gwendolyn only just arrived into the protective walls of the Castle that her title was clamored by the Minutemen witnessing her entrance. Howlers of joy erupted along the fortifications, all calling out to their savior, the grand General. Amidst the celebration, MacCready’s companion turned to stone, immobile in a hoard of admirers and supporters. She looked on helplessly at him, begging for him to act. Before he could hatch any plan, however, a loud shout disrupted the rabid militia.

“Back to your posts, Minutemen,” commanded Preston Garvey.

“Yes Colonel!”

The masses dispersed, letting go of Gwendolyn who sighed in relief. 

“Am I glad to see you, Preston. I assume the renovations of the General’s quarters have been completed?”

“Yeah, of course. Let me show you.”

The Minuteman colonel showed them into the courtyard, through the rows of corn and tatoes lined around a large radio tower. MacCready followed him into the battlements, through a narrow corridor lined with stands all manned by peddling settlers trying to unload their various wares on the newcomers. Once they reached the end of the corridor, Preston pried two large wooden doors open and revealed an immaculate room. A long table served as a centerpiece, a drawn map of the Commonwealth spread across its length. A small nook to the right sported two armchairs and a side table supporting the weight of a large lamp. To the left, a large curio cabinet filled with documents and bottles alike. On the back wall, a large slightly dented painting of a man on a horse stood above a double bed. Comfortable looking rugs had been spread across the cold stone floor of the room, finishing off the luxurious atmosphere.

“Preston, you didn’t have to go this far. A matress and a table would have sufficed.”

“It wouldn’t be right for our General to live in a pig pen. It’s good for morale too.”

Gwendolyn took her first step into the room, taking in her surroundings. The pride emanating from Preston was so apparent that Gwendolyn gave him a cheeky grin in return. At her command, Garvey left their company, closing the heavy doors on his way out.

“Maybe I should have taken up the mantle sooner, don’t you think,” chuckled Gwendolyn at the opulence of her private quarters.

MacCready whistled. “Nice. Very nice. All you need is a few throw pillows and some drapes and it'll be as good as new. Seems to me that there’s a lot of caps in the Minutemen business. Count me in, boss.”

“When I cleaned out the armory of this place with Preston, we found the corpse of the late General. Ronnie Shaw, the hardass I put in charge of our long range armament, told me to take his clothes and wear them if I wanted to. Should I try them on?”

“What are they like?”

“Basically like Hancock but blue and in better shape.”

“Go for it, Gwen. I’m sure it’ll look better than the dirty shirt and pants you’ve got on right now.”

The woman headed towards her curio, pulling open the furniture’s drawers until she found a deep blue coat lined with silver buttons and trims. Gwendolyn put it on then adorned her head of a tricorn similar to the ghoul mayor’s. As she turned around to face her companion once more, MacCready found himself slack jawed. His boss looked almost regal in the heavy coat’s fabric. Her thin frame barely impacted the garment’s authoritative aura.

“You actually look the part, Gwen. I’m sure Garvey would love to see this.”

“This coat is so much heavier than my vault suit,” she complained while strapping her combat armor to her body. She even produced a bandolier from the cabinet’s drawer on which she adorned her personal radio just like Preston did himself. “Now what about you? Care for a change of clothes?”

“The only thing I'm looking for while we're here is one of those funny-looking hats. Always wanted one of them.”

Gwendolyn’s laughter filled the room. “It really wouldn’t suit your looks, Mac. You told me you were going for the whole handsome rogue, right? A half-assed cowboy hat isn’t gonna cut it!”

He laughed in tandem with her. In the process, she had walked over to where he was standing. She then lightly brushed her palm to his injured cheek as if trying to will the cut away. Robert couldn’t help but sigh and place his own hand onto hers, basking in the warmth of her skin and the softness of her heart.  _ She’s always been too kind. Too kind and too good.  _ Before he could realize what had transpired, Gwendolyn’s lips pecked his own for an instant before pulling away. Astonished, paralyzed even, he stood as she gathered her hand to her chest and left the lavish room in his care. As the sound of her steps grew ever fainter, his heartbeat accelerated until all he could hear was the pounding in his chest. Feeling his knees weakening, MacCready sat down into one of the armchairs, pondering as to how to react. Was he okay with that? Was he appreciative of it? Was he looking too much into it? Did he like it?

Too many questions, too little time. After a long while, a Minuteman envoy knocked on the General quarter’s door, calling out for him. It seemed like Gwendolyn needed him for something. Or at least that was all MacCready had actually heard. He got up from his seat and left with the envoy. 

“Mac,” Gwendolyn called out. She was standing atop the battlements, observing the rolling waves of the sea.

“What is it?”

“Before long I'll have to go back to the Brotherhood.”

“Is it about the machine you had them work on to get you into the Institute?”

“Yeah. I think it's about time I tell you about what it's supposed to do. That machine is a teleporter. It's going to rip me apart and put me back together inside the Institute. According to Virgil, the chances of survival I'm facing are of seventeen percent at best.”

“Now let me get this straight. You're trusting a machine to safely take you apart, then put you back together. Well, I'll tell you what, if you make it back... I'll be the first to shake your hand. If you still have one.” His companion shot him a nasty look in response to his obvious sarcasm. “Sorry, but come on, you can't be serious, Gwen. You can't-”

“I have to,” she interrupted him. “Shaun needs me. I have to go get him, bring him back home.”

A heavy silence established itself. Gwendolyn kept on looking at the sea, each new crash of the waves digging more of a trench in between her and her mercenary. He looked upon her profile, taking in what he interpreted as fatigue. Dark circles menaced to entirely swallow the topaz of her eyes. Faint red splotches covered her cheeks, signs of her early onset alcoholism. Even her butterscotch hair, generally glistening in the sun in its voluminous glory, seemed to have lost its color. The sight broke MacCready's heart. Gwendolyn broke the silence.

“If you have anything you still need, anything that still bothers you, please let me know before Maxson comes to fetch me again.”

“What do you mean?”

She grimaced and took a deep breath, trying to brace herself. “I don't think I'll come back from the Institute alive. I just don't want to leave any regrets behind.”

“I know what I still need from you, Gwen.”

“What would that be?”

“For you to come back. Alive.”


	21. She Shines

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where they go on a little escapade before the incoming storm  
> ***Contains explicit sexual content***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***Contains explicit sexual content***  
> First time writing smut in my entire life so... go easy on me! :D
> 
> Also, I always get a kick out of visiting Takahashi in Diamond City. I like to imagine that I'd be that one person actually trying to entertain a conversation in Japanese with the poor broken robot (I do know Japanese)
> 
> Also for those interested, I made a really lazy collage of in-game stills of Gwendolyn with her physical transformation overtime: https://mastorya.tumblr.com/post/184792672653/just-a-little-collage-of-gwen-overtime-poor-dear

MacCready had never been a fan of planned-out strategies. His signature move was to make it up as he went. Still, despite not having to participate in or even attend any of the Minutemen meetings taking place at the Castle, he showed up for every single one of them. Contrary to popular belief amongst the militia, his decision had nothing to do with actually supporting the cause, but rather had everything to do with observing Gwendolyn’s authoritative figure taking charge of all required operations. In her Minuteman General outfit, she simply looked stunning, a true leader for the lost and weak, a godly figurehead that stood for more than decorum alone. The way she would speak to her troops, the way she would animate her speeches with hand gestures, the way she would prioritize the survival of all the men and women at her service… It was all more than noble. It was beautiful.

Often, she would keep on planning ahead with the help of Preston Garvey way into the wee hours of the morning, fueled mainly by a mix of whiskey and, if she was able to escape from the colonel for long enough, a dose or two of psycho. On the rare occasion that Gwendolyn would remove her coat and show off her arms from within a lazily hanging undershirt, the amount of injectable drugs she took on a regular basis was plain to see. Bruises spread across her skin, each the entry point of a needle at some point in the day. How this woman could still have enough of a mind to be a responsible leader was a pure mystery.

Then came an unexpected day. The trace amount of seasonal shift left behind after the devastation of the world indicated that spring would be rolling around with its increase in wildlife along with a dangerous spread of thistles on the side of worn roads. On this day, Gwendolyn was nowhere to be found in the Castle. According to Preston, she had left at dawn in the direction of Andrew Station to the West. With a location and a time of departure, it didn’t take long for MacCready to find her tracks in the sandy earth beyond the fortifications of the Castle. He left before most of the bustling community woke from their slumber in the barracks, bringing a light backpack filled with food and ammunition, and Savior, of course. Her footprints indicated that she was travelling slower than her usual pace, giving the mercenary plenty of time to catch up. By noon, he had followed her all the way to the Boston Police Rationing Site. To Robert’s surprise, Gwendolyn had stayed completely oblivious to his tracking, or perhaps she was simply content with letting him follow her from the shadows. Nevertheless, he decided to make his presence known.

“Hey there, knockout. Where you headin’?”

“Hey there, handsome,” she emulated. “Just headed for Diamond City. What about you?”

“Let me guess, you couldn’t take Garvey’s stuffy attitude anymore?”

She smiled. “You know me way too well. You got any reason to be tracking me down the way you’ve been for the last four hours?”

 _Ah, so she did know I was there. That’s less disconcerting._ “Keeping tabs on you, General.”

“How nice! Get over here, Mac.” He gladly obliged and walked up to her side. “Wanna hit up Takahashi’s when we get in the city? I’ve a taste for robotic noodles.”

“You offering?” he asked with a wink.

“Alright, sure, I’ll pay for you, you stingy butt.” Her girlish giggles illuminated her somber complexion.

At each other's side, they made their way to Diamond City, the great town within its green wall. The main gate was fairly well guarded but open to all, a rare sight, if not a welcomed one. As they stepped into the city proper, MacCready stood, rooted in place, as he took in the familiar stagnant skyline.

“What's wrong?” inquired his partner.

“Oh nothing. Haven't been to Diamond City in years, but I'll tell you... nothing's changed.”

“It doesn't really need to change, does it? It's got everything you'd ever need with a dash of racism and xenophobia. What's not to love?”

They proceeded to approach the centerpiece of the town, a large stall manned by a Protectron wearing a chef's hat.

“Nan-ni shimasho-ka?”

Facing the Protectron, a smile tugging at his lips, MacCready put on a little show for his boss.

“What's up, Taka? Set me up with some of your shima... uh, shimichanga... errr, whatever they're called.”

“Nan-ni shimasho-ka?” repeated the broken robotic unit.

“Yeah, yeah... that's the stuff.”

“Nan-ni shimasho-ka?”

“You're damn right I'll take two servings!”

Chuckling, Gwendolyn did much of the same, ordering two bowls of power noodles, then tossed a good amount of caps on the counter. They took up seats on bar stools along the length of the counter and eagerly dug into their steaming bowls. The flavourful meal brought endless satisfaction to the young man.

“Man, that hits the spot,” he happily sighed. “Anything else you need in the great green jewel?”

“I was thinking of hitting up Arturo for an upgrade. Maybe switch my 10mil for a .44 caliber…”

“The extra firepower can't hurt,” Robert added. “Let's go before he closes up shop.”

Heading to the small Hispanic gun genie, the woman was intercepted by a particularly handsy guard.

“Ahem. Well hello beautiful.”

MacCready's boss rolled her eyes to the heavens before turning towards her interlocutor, completely disinterested.

“What?”

“Hey, you the vault gal that was in the paper, right? You're 200 years old? Lookin' pretty good for your age, huh? Ya know, read that interview you gave. That thing you said at the end? About taking one day at a time? I can relate.”

Visibly uncomfortable, Gwendolyn tried to escape the man's grip on her shoulder. “Well , thanks mate.” Before she could line up another sentence, he had pulled her closer than would ever be required.

“Now what can I do for you, sweetheart?”

The whole confrontation had tried the mercenary's thin patience until it snapped. Incapable of keeping himself in check any longer, he threw a punch at the guard's helmeted head, prompting the other man to let go of Gwen.

“What the- oh, it's on!,” snarled the guard, taking out his standard issue baseball bat. “Time to beat down another crazy!”

The young man avoided the guard's swats with relative ease, dodging out of the way in small steps until he could come back in for a jab in his assailant's abdomen. Gwendolyn called out his name in vain; he wasn't backing out of this one. He'd have enough of this asshole disrespecting his best friend this way.

A singular lapse in attention rewarded MacCready with a swing to the head. He slumped to the ground, his vision blurry. Expecting another hit on his back, he braced for impact but none came. Instead, he felt a well-known hand on his body, helping him back up to his feet. Through the intense ringing pounding in his ears, he heard the guard throwing threats to Gwendolyn, who was trying to defuse the situation.

“Bad move, merc. Welcome to Diamond City, motherfucker...”

“That's enough, officer. Let's just forget this ever happened, alright?”

“Alright, I'll let it go this time because you helped a bunch of people, Sweet tits. Amma keep an eye on you though.”

“Thanks…”

Now propped onto her shoulder, MacCready made a conscious effort to move his legs until they reached a red door next to an empty Power Armor stand. Once inside, his partner lowered him into a cushioned sofa. Gwen administered a stimpak to her injured companion and waited out its effects. The ringing lessened and his vision came back to normal.

“Mac, that was real sweet and all but don't do that again. I can handle horny toads just fine.”

Frustrated, he angrily spat at the woman in front of him. “He was disrespecting the hell out of you. What was I supposed to do?”

“It's already good that you punched the guy instead of shooting him. Bravo on the restraint.”

“Whatever. Where are we?”

“You're in my Diamond City home. Cozy right?”

Cozy was the perfect descriptor for the space he was in. He was in a seating area filled with armchairs and a large red couch, which he currently occupied. On his left, a weapons workbench adorned a wall covered in custom weaponry. On his right, a regular workshop was placed next to a small kitchenette. Down the small corridor, many bookshelves and containers filled one corner of the room, while the other sported a particularly large bathtub, a working faucet and a large stove, presumably to warm up said water for the tub. In front of him, a simple flight of wooden stairs lead to a small balcony occupied by a double bed. His observations were cut short by a long sigh from his partner.

“Just, please promise me not to get hurt on my behalf for something so petty again. Everytime I come here, I get hit on. I supposed it's part of the Diamond City charm.”

“That…. I can't promise,” he cheekily answered.

“What a difficult man you're being right now, my dear.”

“And you love it.”

“Yeah, okay, you got me there.”

_Oh. I didn't think she'd answer that. Does she… Ugh, only one way to find out I guess._

MacCready stayed as still as a stalking mongrel in his seat, trying to build up the nerve to actually talk to his boss. In the meantime, Gwendolyn had been keeping herself busy, putting away her medical supplies and taking off her heavy general's coat.

_What am I thinking. I can't ask her that. She's got enough on her plate as it is. But I… holy heck, get yourself together man. Just talk to her like you usually do._

“Hey, uhm, Gwen? I think we should talk.”

A blaze of surprise followed by concern etched itself on her tired visage as she walked over to her companion.

“Is… Is anything wrong?”

“Wrong? No... not at all.” _Way to start on the wrong foot._ “I've been waiting for the right moment to talk to you, and I suppose this is as good of a time as any.” He took a moment to gage his interlocutor's reaction. To his surprise, or maybe not surprise but moreso relief, she simply gave him an encouraging smile. “After helping me get Duncan's cure from Med-Tek, I figure I owe you something... and I always pay my debts.”

“Again with the debt talk? You don't owe me anything. It was a true pleasure to help you out… And to be frank, that smile you gave me when I delivered the cure to you… well that was payment enough.”

“Please, just… Here, I wanted you to have this.” He handed over his most beloved trinket, a wooden soldier he used to peruse every time he felt like he had lost any form of purpose in this world. The toy, while ragged and beat-up, meant everything to him. By giving it to Gwendolyn, he hoped she’d understand that he was also giving her everything he was. “I know a carved toy soldier is a strange reward for risking your life, but this one’s special. It means a lot to me.”

She cradled the small wooden toy in her open palms, probably asking herself what the hell was wrong with him. Nobody in their right mind would accept such a thing as a reward, a payment for a debt no less. He anticipated a negative answer, the wait burning away his resolve and emotions.

“If it’s special to you, then it’s a thoughtful gift. Thank you.”

What he felt at those words… He couldn’t even place it. Solace? Gladness? Whatever such an emotion was called, he was just ecstatic to be feeling it.

“You’re welcome. Just make sure you don’t lose it.” She gave him yet another one of her reassuring smiles she was so keen on displaying for him on a daily basis. It was motivation enough to push him into the more somber part of what he needed to say.

“My wife Lucy gave it to me right after we met. I… I, uh, told her I was a soldier and she made it for me.” Gwendolyn’s smile faltered, replaced by a furrowed brow. “Never could bring myself to tell her the truth… that I was just a hired killer. The soldier story was the best thing I could come up with. I didn’t want to lose her because of what I was.”

“Did she… ever find out the truth?”

“No.” Possibly feeling the deluge of repressed sadness that MacCready was about to divulge, Gwendolyn took up a seat next to him on the couch, her hand lightly pressed against his back, an obvious gesture of both understanding and incitement. “It doesn’t really matter anymore… she died a few years back. We made the mistake of holing up in a metro station one night. We didn’t know the place was infested with ferals. They were on her before I could even fire a shot. Ripped her apart right in front of me. There was nothing I could do. Took everything I had to escape with Duncan in my arms. Maybe it would have been better if we’d died there with her.”

“Mac, don’t say that… Nobody deserves to die like that. Why would you say something like that?”

The young man exhaled with difficulty, his emotions starting to get the better of him. “I guess I needed to tell someone how I felt about it. Damn, I miss Lucy…” Gwendolyn tried to offer him a hug, a gesture he refused. He decided to press on instead. “No matter how bad things got, she was always there with a shoulder to lean on. It gave me… well, it gave me the courage I needed to press ahead… to never give up. When she died, I thought that feeling was gone forever…” He turned to plant his deep blue eyes into hers, trying to swat his nervousness away from within the hazel of her irises. “Then I met you. You have the world’s problems on you back and here you are helping me with mine…. Lending me your shoulder like Lucy did.” _Breathe in, breathe out. Stay calm, you’re almost there._ “I just want you to know how much your friendship means to me.”

An agonizing silence followed. Gwendolyn’s expression was almost opaque. Fortunately for him, MacCready had been training every waking moment in reading her tells. The light twitch of her left eyebrow betrayed her nervousness. The slight part in her lips, a result of her discomfort. Her dancing fingers told of the scenarios she was currently calculating in her mind. What was so difficult to say? Finally, her quivering voice came to life in a sinuous whisper.

“I was hoping… that maybe… What we had could be… Uhm… a bit more than friendship..?”

_What? More? What is she… oh. No that can't… is she really… Gwendolyn, the proud woman that doesn't take any bullshit from anyone… in love? With… me?_

“I... I don't know. I mean, I never thought of us that way.” _A white lie. I have thought about her… in certain ways. Just not… in love with me. Or am I completely wrong about this? I've got to…_ “What about your husband? I know he's gone, but you still love him, don't you?” _Oh no. No no no no, don't cry…_

A stray tear escaped her eye, moisture she quickly whipped away. “I… I'll always love Nate. He'll always have a place in my heart… but he's gone. And you… you're who matters the most to me now. It might be difficult for me but I really want to make this relationship work, if you'll have me.”

In kind, tears welled up to his own waterline. At such a revelation, he simply couldn't hold back his wild train of thought. “I... I don't really know what to say. I… I can't believe you feel this way about me. I know I was taking a chance dumping all my feelings on the table. But now that I know how you really feel about me... it was definitely worth the risk. For once in my life, everything's going right and I have you to thank for it. I don't think anyone in the world could ask for a greater gift than that. Thank you.”

There was nothing else he could muster up to try to explain how truly grateful he was for such an opportunity. Gwendolyn, his boss, his partner, his best friend… loved the raw, true, painfully flawed him. There was truly nothing in the whole damn world that could make him happier.

She placed a shy finger under his chin to attract his face back to hers. Her cheeks were rosy, a beautiful blush coloring her skin in such a delightful shade. Her eyes, her damn eyes, magnets he couldn't tear away from. _A true beauty. His beauty._ Her lips approached his ever so slowly, awaiting his consent to link themselves to his. Aiming to please her, he placed a shaky hand on the nape of her neck, pulling her to him.

A spark followed by an explosion. That’s how the kiss felt to him. The silken touch of her lips to his buried all insecurity that still kept a close grasp on his heart. She tasted of melon and what he imagined was a summer breeze, cool and refreshing. In comparison, he probably tasted of dirt and cigarettes. Regardless, she voraciously devoured him, a certain madness in her lips’ movements, as if it was her last chance in the world to savour him… and maybe it was. He let go of her neck. Perplexed, she leaned back in her seat to observe him.

“Gwen, you have to promise me you'll come back. You have to promise me you'll survive. Do you think you can do this for me?”

“Robert-”

“Please…”

“I promise to try with all my heart. I can’t… give you more without lying to you.”

“I’ve no choice but to accept this, right?”

She brushed her nose against his in an endearing gesture and pecked his lips. “I love you, Robert Joseph MacCready. If I survive the Institute, you’ll be the first to know. I’ll be back in your arms before you know it. But for now, no more somber talk. Let me enjoy my last day with you…”

It was the only encouragement he needed. Robert kissed her once again and prodded her lips with his tongue which she eagerly accepted. Enlaced and entwined, they danced within the warmth of her mouth, eternal bliss radiating desire in his groin. Incapable of keeping his hands to himself any longer, he swept his hand across her back, using her spine as a guide all the way to her buttocks. Gwendolyn mewled on his lips when he fondled the tender flesh, the sound breaking down his inhibitions completely. With a confidant grip on her ass, he propped her onto his lap without ever breaking their kiss. The throws of his passion for this woman he loved beyond words pulsated through his body all the way to his cock, the member engorged with the warm blood he would happily shed to protect her. Feeling his erection in the crook of her hips, she mewled again, grinding her crotch against his as if she was pleading for it to…

She suddenly ripped her undershirt off of her body, offering her bare breasts to her lover. They were exactly as he imagined, her milky skin budding into rose colored petals he tenderly kissed and licked. Each time he suckled on her nipples, she moaned his name. Each time he petted her bare bottom, she whined for more. Robert took a moment to look upon his beloved. Sweat pearled at the tips of her breasts, her chest heaved under the weight of her desire, her topaz eyes pierced his sapphires with pure intensity… She must have read his mind, the way she laced her arms around his neck and let him pull her up as he stood. The moment she could, she coiled her quivering legs around his waist and let him take her to her bed. He carefully placed her on the soft mattress.

Gwendolyn bit her lips, looking at the man she declared her love to while he removed his clothes. First the boots came off, followed by his leather jacket and his undershirt. His partner squealed in delight, launching her hands at his toned chest. Her delicate fingers first traced the hints of his muscles, then went along the many scars he bore. Then his pants hit the ground, his belt unbuckled by an overly eager Gwen. He carefully, gently, pushed her back to the mattress as he himself climbed into bed only in his undergarments. Eagerness changed into childish frustration, her hand grasping his wrist and guiding his fingers to her own pants. Not one to disappoint, he removed them, throwing them over his shoulder unceremoniously. While she was impatient, he took his time, taking in the beauty of her form underneath him. In only a small pair of lacy underwear, the sight of her could break even the strongest of men’s resolve. His lover, gorgeous as she was, shined. The accumulated sweat on her body glistened in the dim light of her home, giving her the appearance of the most precious treasure, _his_ treasure, for whom he would kill man and beast alike until the end of his days.

Having had enough of his little waiting game, she grabbed hold of her lover’s hips and flung him to the bed, placing herself over him. Those dexterous fingers of hers made quick work of his underwear, then her own, throwing them aside faster than MacCready would have ever expected. Before he could make heads or tail of the situation, her lips encircled his member, drawing a long moan from his lungs. His orgasm mounted rapidly with each pass of his cock within the depths of her throat. To save himself the embarrassment of sullying her pristine lips, he pleaded for her to stop by taking hold of her cheek and pulling her face to his. Still, she played dirty, tugging on his cock with her hand, mimicking the motion of her mouth. Displeased yet grateful, he kissed her long and hard, enjoying the soft whimper of his name on her lips when he let her separate from him to breathe. Her wavering focus stopped her merciless hands, giving him just enough respite to gather his thoughts as much he could. “Would you… Do you want me to…” he managed to whisper in her ear before she entwined her fingers around his cock once more, this time to guide it to her warmth.

He penetrated her with all of his respectable length, drawing a surprised gasp out of her. He held her in place with both hands on her hips as she straddled him, his cock pushing upwards within her depths. She moaned loudly with each slow push of his hips. Her inner walls stretched and swallowed him whole until he was buried to the hilt. Finally comfortable, Gwen moved her hips along with his, their moans rising in harmony. Blissful happiness, that was what he felt as his lover grinded on his body. A careful hand hovered from her hip to her waist and then to her exposed breast. Her hard little nipple pressed itself in his palm each time she breathed, each contact fuel to his fire, each flame a pulse to his cock and each pulse a moan trickling from her supple lips. Robert did his best to sit up without removing himself from her, a delicate operation he mostly succeeded in. His lips demanded hers with fervour, to which she obliged, arching herself onto him, pushing his hand to cup her breast. Wails of pleasure escaped her throat with each push of his cock in her until she felt that it simply wasn’t enough anymore. She gently guided his free hand to her crotch until his finger touched her sleek wetness. He didn’t need to be told twice, or at all, for him to gather her dew on his fingertip and softly stroke her clitoris. The bud twitched to life under his touch, engorging itself with each pass of his fingers. When she tried to buck her hips to him and remove herself from his lips, he plunged his tongue in her mouth after nibbling her lower lip. Gwen moaned ever so loudly, accelerating the gyrations of her torso. Her orgasm was mounting with each loving circle he traced on the apex of her pleasure.

She came while screaming his name, her hips bucking, her legs trembling. In response, he accepted her figure onto his chest, embracing her within his arms. She moaned through her laborious breathing. His hard cock, still buried within her, kept pulsating as her walls constricted around it. Still, he wasn’t going to force himself on her while she was still coming down from the high of her orgasm. He patiently waited for her breathing to stabilize itself. In the meantime, he petted her back and her hair, silently praying that this moment was real and not a dream. After a little while, she sat back up onto his hips and whispered “your turn, sweet cheeks” before mercilessly grinding onto his overstimulated member once more. It didn’t take long from MacCready to reach his own tipping point. The heavenly vision on top of him was more than enough to guarantee a quick finish. “I’m gonna…” he muttered through his moans, to which she answered “come for me”. It was his undoing, his orgasm exploding within her warmth, filling her with his seed. She moved along with the waves of his pleasure, draining him of what little fluid he still had to offer. Robert let his limbs heavily fall onto the cushiony mattress, his breathing loud and erratic. He closed his eyes in a meaningless effort to center himself. Gwendolyn hopped off his lap and onto his side, draping one arm over his heaving torso. She then softly kissed his neck and cheek until she reached his earlobe for an even softer nibble. He opened up his eyes once more despite the fear that if he did, she would disappear and he would realize that all of this had been nothing but his imagination. Turning his head towards her, he looked upon her gorgeous features. Her lashes fluttered towards him, delivering a gentle look and a delighted smile. She was real, she was there by his side, and she _loved_ him.


	22. Dematerialization

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where Gwendolyn disappears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whispers and Bullets Part I is almost complete! I hope I'll see all of you back in Part II!
> 
> Changing my schedule to Saturday uploads every two weeks due to getting a fulltime job for the summer.

“Wake up, sleepyhead.”

MacCready tried in vain to shake Gwendolyn awake. When he got out of bed, she didn’t even stir in the slightest. When he left her home behind to do a little bit of shopping, she still had not moved. He didn’t have any problems with letting the exhausted woman sleep in as much as she wanted but her personal radio had been chirping, announcing that she was requested at the Boston Airport. He lowered himself over her resting form to kiss her exposed temple and whisper in her ear.

“Come on, beautiful. It’s time to face the day…”

Gwen mumbled and shook her head. “Back in bed, love.”

He guided her face to his with a gentle hand. “I got something for you. It’s downstairs on your workbench.”

Robert helped her sit up in bed. Sly as she was, she stole a kiss the moment she could, embracing him with all of her might. “I don’t want to go just yet. I don’t want to leave you just yet.”

“I know Gwen but your boy needs you. Whatever happens down there in the Institute, just know that I’ll be waiting for you. And when you come back up with little Shaun, we’ll party our heads off. How does that sound?”

“I wish I could be that optimistic…” she sighed. 

“Everything is going to be alright. I promise.” A long deep kiss followed his faith in her. Of course, he did not wish to send her to the wolves, to send her to her possible death, but just like she had shouldered him at his worse, he would shoulder her through her biggest trial, the crucible of the Institute.

“I love you so damn much, you know that?”

“Eh, I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of hearing you say it.” He pulled away from his beloved, drawing a moaning complaint for her charming lips. “On your feet, knockout. Preston’s been trying to get in contact with you all morning. Don’t keep him waiting.”

As soon as he stood from her bed, Gwendolyn did much of the same, though she was wrestling with her previously discarded clothes, trying to make herself presentable for the long road ahead. A loud conversation over the radio waves later, she found herself in front of her weapons workbench, on which awaited a gift.

“It’s… beautiful. Mac, you did this?”

“I've never been the hammer and nails sort of guy. No, I’ve had Arturo make it just for you.”

Her delicate fingers took hold of the .44 caliber revolver’s engraved stock. An elegant flower motif stretched from the tip of the gun’s barrel to its stock. The custom piece sported an advanced receiver, a bull barrel and a reflex sight. The rubber sharpshooter’s grip had a name inscribed in it: Faith.

“I don’t know what to say… Thank you… I’ll strap it to my hip immediately.”

“I’m glad you like it. I can only hope that it’ll bring you back to me in one piece.”

“Faith. Is that what you have in me?”

“Always.”

 

********************************

 

Gwendolyn, MacCready and an entire posse of followers made their way to the Boston Airport, much to the Brotherhood’s chagrin. The group trickled into the airport’s workshop area, out of the eyes of most of the soldiers on site. Nick Valentine and Hancock had a really hard time entering the compound on account that they are respectively a synth and a ghoul. Codsworth turned a good number of eyes as well, him being a sentient Mister Handy unit. Piper eagerly scribbled down in her notebook many article ideas while Curie marveled at the resurrected technology littering the grounds. Deacon, somehow already camouflaged in a Brotherhood flight suit, remained enigmatic at best. It was quite a tremendous contrast to Cait’s explosive behaviour, her favorite swears spewing from her mouth with each step she took. Preston looked on, flabbergasted, with Dogmeat at his side. All of these intruders in Brotherhood territory threatened to make Robert giggle helplessly. Only Gwendolyn’s severe air dampened his enthusiasm.

The large group settled themselves around a very large metallic contraption constituted of a platform on top of which rested three tall pillars connected to a console emitting flashing lights. A woman in an exposed Power Armor skeleton operated the console, criticizing the entire contraption’s design at length. MacCready made a mental note to never personally get on her bad side. 

Gwendolyn’s companions went to her, offering their wishes of good luck and other apprehensions. Piper tried her best to assure that the machine would definitely work, though her grimace exposed her true feelings on the matter. Cait, ever the charmer, called the teleporter a “one-way ticket to heaven”. Then came Deacon and his usual witticism and Hancock with his desire to cause teleportation mayhem. Codsworth came over later on, marveling at how it had been possible to construct such a device out of scrap material. Curie, whom MacCready was meeting for the first time, demanded that Gwen come back safely so she could perform tests of nebulous origins on her. Preston mostly kept to himself, claiming that Sturges, Sanctuary’s official handyman, could have also understood Virgil’s schematics. Nick remained positive through and through, asking that Gwendolyn remember the faces of the Institute scientists when she’d materialize in front of them. None of them, however, managed to alleviate any of MacCready’s concerns. In all honesty, he felt like no one was taking all of this quite seriously. Did they not realize that this whole operation could come crashing down at any moment, killing Gwen in the process? Did they not care that she might die in front of them all today? Sensing his anxiety like most mammals could, Dogmeat pressed his nose onto the young man’s palm. 

“Hey, boy. Are you scared too?” The dog whimpered in response. “I guess I wish she didn’t have to do all this nonsense. It’s way too dangerous.” He petted the dog’s voluminous coat as he spoke, the soft touch somewhat helping his fragile psyche remain in one piece. “Gwen is a crazy one, isn’t she, boy? Yeah, she’s completely nuts. That’s probably why I feel the way I do about her,” he confided in the friendly canine. “That’s why this whole teleporter thing doesn’t sit right with me at all. You get me, right Dogmeat?” He whined as if he understood what MacCready was telling him.

“Didn’t take you for a dog person, love.” Gwen approached the mercenary with a smile.

“I’m not much of an anything kind of person. Anyways, what are you waiting for? Can’t use the molecular whatever thing yet?”

“Eh, we’re just waiting for Maxson to finally grace us with his presence. Ingram won’t give the okay before he briefs me.”

MacCready awkwardly fiddled with the rim of his hat, looking for what he should say to his friend on the verge of almost losing her forever. It wasn’t a situation he thought he’d ever find himself in. The woman gave him a quick hug and hurried to the teleporter to observe it coming to life in a show of dancing sparks. 

Elder Maxson entered the isolated compound, Paladin Danse and Lancer-Captain Kells at his flanks. Hands carefully nestled into the small of his back, he observed the entire area with a frustratingly neutral facade. Robert glanced over at Gwendolyn who sported a disgusted smirk to the benefit of the military leader, granting her a furious scowl from Danse and a haughty grunt from Kells. Not one to beat around the bush, Maxson went directly to the frowning woman.

“Remarkable work, Knight. The Signal Interceptor appears to be complete. Are you ready to put it to the test?”

“Lab rat standing by.”

“All of us are aware of the risks you're taking and we salute you.”  _ Do you really, King of the skies? Do you even realize all that Gwen is sacrificing for you? I seriously doubt it.  _ “That being said... this is the first time we've attempted to directly adapt Institute technology.”

“I knew this was a suicide mission.”

“Be proud. Your bravery in the face of the unknown exemplifies what it means to be part of the Brotherhood.”

“Enough pleasantries, Arthur. Tell me what I need to know and let’s get on with it.”

“Fair enough. I want you to listen very carefully. Once you've entered the Institute, we expect to lose contact so it's imperative you remember everything I'm about to tell you. About ten years ago, the Brotherhood began recruiting civilian scientists from the Capital Wasteland to assist with various projects. During this process, we were able to obtain the services of Doctor Madison Li, a noted mind in the field of nuclear engineering.”

“Low-key slavery, got it.”

“I suggest,  _ Knight _ , that you keep that loud mouth of yours shut,” interjected Kells. Obviously unaffected by Gwendolyn’s casual jab, Elder Maxson pressed on.

“Being at war leaves little room for compassion. Your mission is simple. Once you're inside the Institute, we want you to track down Doctor Li's whereabouts. If you find out that she's still alive, make contact with her and convince her to return to the Brotherhood of Steel. There's a special project we're working on, and it needs her attention.”

Unwilling to play Maxson’s exemplary little toy soldier and not question his orders, Gwendolyn demanded answers. “What's this project that needs her attention?”

“Doctor Li previously worked on a potent weapon for the Brotherhood of Steel. That information is highly classified, but I can tell you that she was working in our Combat Robotics division. We'd like her to continue where she left off. That's all I can tell you.”

Gwen approached the teleporter and stepped onto the sparkling platform. The sight of her encompassed in blue lightning bolts was as majestic as it was agonizing to her lover. MacCready stared at her, trying as well as he could to etch her form, her courage, her unwavering resolve and her beauty in his mind. The distress he felt at the very real possibility that this would be the last time he’d ever see her… His chest tightened, strangling his breathing in his throat. Elder Maxson resumed his supposedly empowering speech, much to the mercenary’s chagrin. When it would be over, when Maxson would be done, she would be gone, maybe forever. The thought alone made him shiver in his boots.

“Listen to me, Knight. I'm well aware that you're risking your life going into the Institute blind. Just keep your mind on the mission, and don't let anything they say sway you from your duty. Proctor Ingram, start up the sequence.”

The woman in her exposed Power Armor rig labored over the console connected to the teleporter. A large dish spun to life, its orange lights sparkling with each rotation.

“Let me start scanning for the signal,” said Proctor Ingram. “Cross your fingers. I'm inputting the code now.”

More lightning bolts enveloped the machine, some striking at a finger’s distance from Gwendolyn who stood as still as a mountain. 

“Wow. There's a heck of a lot of interference and ghosting. It's going to take a minute or two to lock in. By the way, this little trip you're taking is a heck of an opportunity to find out as much as we can about the Institute and what they're up to. I put a clever little program on this holotape that'll scan their network and download anything it finds.” She threw a small holotape that Gwen caught effortlessly before resuming her stillness. “If you place it in any terminal down there, it'll do the rest. Bring it back to me and I'll see if I can make sense of whatever it found.” 

Loud crackling and the sound of a whirling engine stole a collective gasp from the gathered crowd. ”Well, well... looks like we have a winner. RF wave capture complete,” informed Ingram. “Ramping the emitter.”

Nick Valentine was the first to chime in, sending his regards to the Institute. Preston followed with a crisp “Good luck”. Cait proclaimed her displeasure with a heavily accented “Shite”. Hancock demanded Gwendolyn come back alive. Piper and Codsworth remained too astonished to speak or react. Dogmeat barked and snarled at the dangerous contraption. Paladin Danse bellowed a passionate “Ad Victoriam”. Deacon saluted the paralyzed woman. Curie squealed with scientific delight, her eyes filled with wonderment as the machine appeared to be working.

“Sixty percent…” Ingram chimed in.

“Knight Clark,” called out Elder Maxson. “Come back to us as swiftly as possible.”

“Eighty percent…”

“Don’t disappoint us again,” warned Kells.

“Emitter's spiking, but steady. All that's left is to throw the transmit switch.”

“Good luck, Gwendolyn,” uncharastically offered the Elder.

“Transmitting in three… Two…”

“YOU’LL BE ALRIGHT, GWEN! I BELIEVE IN YOU!” roared MacCready. She gave him a shy smile in return.

“...One. Stay safe, soldier!”

Gwendolyn disappeared in a pillar of blue light.

Elder Maxson was the first to get back to his down to earth attitude.

“Proctor Ingram, report.”

“Yes Elder. It seems like everything worked out as expected. Knight Clark should be knee deep inside the Institute as we speak.”

“Good work. You may resume your duties on the tarmac. Lancer-Captain Kells, a word?”

The two statuesque men left the small compound to discuss something or another privately while MacCready and the other witnesses remained slack jawed. 

Piper was the first to break the silence. “So, it worked..?”

“It seems like it,” chimed in Nick. “I can’t even imagine what must be going through the Institute eggheads right now.”

“This was truly a wonderful display of advanced technology,” said a very pleased Curie.

“What now? Where should we wait for Blue?” asked the reporter.

Paladin Danse sighed. “You lot can unfortunately not remain within the borders of Brotherhood territory. I suggest we all make our way to Sanctuary. I’m sure Gwendolyn would want to bring her boy back home when she resurfaces.” 

“You coming too, tin can?” joked Hancock. “Count me in then.”

“If we want to make it anywhere before nightfall, we should go,” reminded Preston. “We can stop by Hangman’s Alley tonight, then depart for Sanctuary tomorrow.”

Codsworth, accompanied by a skittish Dogmeat, gently floated to the compounds exit. “Very good, sir Garvey. Come along everyone.” With nothing else to discuss, everyone got in a tight formation, Paladin Danse taking point, Hancock and Cait closing off the rear.

 

********************************

 

As expected, their trek lasted two long days during which Codsworth and Piper spent most of their time mediating the strong personalities at play, mainly Hancock and Danse who simply wouldn’t stop getting at each other’s throat over the most banal of things. Deacon and Cait developed some kind of strange friendship revolving mainly around competition. Preston became quite fond of Dogmeat, petting the dog’s rugged pelt whenever he could. Curie remained visibly enchanted by every single thing she saw within the wasteland. 

MacCready remained silent for most of the way, pondering what he could do with himself while he waited for Gwendolyn to reemerge from the Institute. All he could really do was expect her to return as fast as possible. His mind drifted from a subject to the next until it latched upon his greatest fear: what if she didn’t come back? After everything he went through in the last couple of years, losing someone else he cared about could prove to be his undoing. Could he find something to live for if she disappeared from his life entirely? After all, Duncan was saved, Lucy’s memory was put to rest… What else did he have in his life that still warranted him being around? _No, you can’t think like that. You’re still a father. You still have a son. If she never came back to me, I still have Duncan to take care of, to go back to._ _And if she does come back, I could have Duncan brought up here. He could play with Shaun in Sanctuary while we go on adventures… We would be a family._

As they arrived in Sanctuary, everyone went along their merry way, Hancock to a drinking hole with Cait, Piper to one of the many barracks, Danse to the perimeter wall with Preston, Deacon to a stream with Dogmeat, Curie to her laboratory with Codsworth… Only Nick Valentine remained behind with MacCready. The synthetic detective, as sharp as ever, pulled the mercenary away from most prying eyes and ears to discuss in private.

“How are you feeling, kid?”

“None of your business, metal man.”

“Don’t be like that, MacCready. Drop the whole aloof act right now. I saw it in your eyes already. Gwen leaving for the Institute like that is hitting you really hard. You can talk to me, kid. I won’t tell a soul.”

“No offense Valentine but I’d rather not.”

“Okay, then let me break this down for you. You and Gwendolyn are in a relationship. You’re scared to death that she won’t be coming back, especially now that you both have an understanding of each other’s feelings. You intend on wasting away with your nose in a bottle until she shows up again. Do I have it all right?”

“You are now a million times creepier than you used to be.”

“You should really try talking about your feelings instead of pushing everyone away.”

“I do that with Gwen. I don’t need a creepy old synth all up in my business.”

“Suit yourself. Still, I think you should go have a chat with Mama Murphy. She seems to know a lot more than she lets on… This whole Sight thing as she calls it. It could do you some good.”

“Fine, I’ll do it if you leave me alone.”

“Good. See you around, kid.”

Against his better judgement, the moment Nick Valentine left his company, he sought out the old woman in question. She was resting on a luxurious chair, looking at the troubled skies. A storm was coming.

“Are you Mama Murphy?”

“Yeah, kid. What do you want?”

“I was told that you… could see things?”

“Ah, yes, the Sight. A weird thing that is. Do you have some Jet?”

Puzzled, he cocked his head to the side. “Why do you need Jet? Can’t you just  _ see  _ things?”

“Nah, kid. The chems, they help the Sight be more powerful, more precise. No chems, no Sight.”

MacCready pulled out a Jet inhaler from his backpack and offered it to the old woman.  _ What am I doing, this crazy old bat is just a druggy. There’s no way this Sight thing is actually going to work. _

The old woman inhaled the gaseous chemical, letting it rest in her lungs for a moment before rejecting it into the air, closing her eyes as she went. She craned her head to the sky as if observing invisible clouds. Her hands traced indecipherable visions on her knees. The mercenary stared at the old, frail woman with incredulity, wondering if it was all but an act. After what felt like an eternity, she opened her eyes and planted them in his.

“The woman you love, the vault kid, is in a bright laboratory filled with greenery and unwelcomed attention. She’s going to find what she seeks but at a far steeper price than expected.”

“So her son is alive in there?”

“Yes, he is. But not as intended. Will she be able to accept him the way he is?”

“What does that mean?”

“As for what you want to know, kid, she’s gonna be back. But even the Sight can’t tell if she’s going to be back in full or in pieces.”

“Seriously, what does any of that mean?”

“It means what it means, kid. That’s all the Sight can give you for now. Mama Murphy needs to rest now, alright? I’m not as young and spry as I used to be. Go away.”

With more questions than answers, MacCready departed the house in which the old woman lived. He wandered aimlessly through the busy alleys of Sanctuary until he found himself on the outskirts of town, near the rock he and his partner had shared that one afternoon, whiskey in hand, after taking out Winlock and Barnes. He sat down on the rocky outcrop, looking at the sky above, a tumultuous swirl of grey clouds ominously forming overhead.  _ Gwen in full or in pieces? Shaun not as intended? It’s all bullcrap, it’s got to be. She’s gonna go in there, kick their butts and come back with her boy. And when she does, we’ll be a happy family all together. Right? Right. That’s what it’s gonna be. That’s all it can be.  _

_ Come back safe Gwen. _

_ Come back soon. _


	23. The Flames of Old

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where a shadow stumbles back to humanity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the overly long wait! Life got in the way as it usually does and I completely fell off the internet sphere for a couple of weeks.

For thirty-seven days, MacCready wallowed in his self-pity, his entire being plunged into a depressive state. In a futile attempt to bolster his spirit, he had signed up for Sanctuary’s guard duties. As such, he spent most days atop one of the many watch towers lining the community, observing the horizon through Savior’s scope.

For thirty-seven days, the young man had to confront his demons, old and new, from his guilt towards his son and his late wife to his hatred of feral ghouls and his fear of loneliness. With no intimate support possible, his mood became increasingly hostile, furthering his isolation. Preston Garvey tried in vain to connect with the mercenary, offering his appreciation for MacCready’s work in protecting Sanctuary. Uninterested and, frankly, annoyed that the Minuteman colonel would assume he was warming up to the cause, he either remained silent or rudely made his exit whenever possible. The only reason he had taken up the job was to have a reason to look for Gwendolyn, hoping he’d be the first to see her resurface on the horizon.

For thirty-seven days, Robert renewed his relationship with alcoholism, spending every waking moment he wasn’t on guard duty in a watering hole, perched over a cup of hard liquor. When he wasn’t at the bar accompanied by Hancock and Cait, he tried to keep himself occupied by maintaining his beloved rifle. Whenever he peered at the gilded inscription that adorned its aluminium stock, emotions swelled in his gut, the mere thought of his lost lover enough to crack the mask he wore since Gwendolyn’s disappearance. The mask, a mix of indifference and lack of emotion, guaranteed that the population of Sanctuary left him to his own devices. 

On the thirty-seventh day since Gwen’s disappearance, MacCready took his post at 6 a.m. on the south most guard tower. Rain clouds quickly gathered overhead, blocking out the pale morning sun. As expected from such a rapid meteorological development, it started to rain, ruining the mercenary’s day even more than it already had been with his early morning shift. He sat down on the tower’s only piece of furniture, a small stool, as the rain pelted him with its heavy raindrops, soaking him to his bones. Swallowing back various curses, he placed his eye to his scope, scanning the horizon meticulously. 

A thin silhouette stumbled its way towards Sanctuary, walking in between the numerous dead trees lining the small river encompassing the commune. Even with his advanced and greatly zoomed scope, MacCready could barely make out the shape of the person he was observing. Still, his heart skipped a beat at the possibility of Gwendolyn’s return. Ignoring his orders, which, to be fair, he barely cared about, he leapt from the tower to close in onto the apparition.

Separated by the lazy stream, the two stood still, taking in each other’s presence. Gwendolyn wore an ill fitted long sleeved shirt over white and orange pants. Her loose hair stuck to her face and shoulders, weighted down by the heavy rainfall. Her ghastly appearance did nothing to damper MacCready’s joy.  _ She’s back. Gwendolyn is back and alive! _ Disregarding his hatred for water, he rushed into the river, haphazardly throwing his rifle onto his shoulder. Words escaped him, his mind a bubbling emulsion of gratitude for whichever greater power had brought the woman back to him. Unable to contain himself any longer, he tackled Gwendolyn, embracing her shivering body with all his might.

“Gwen… I- I missed you so much. Now all you need to explain is how the heck you managed to get out of the Institute alive.”

“Not now, Mac. I want to go home,” she huffed as she tried to get out of his grasp.

He reluctantly backed away from her. She turned her back to him, walking towards the bridge linking the Commonwealth to Sanctuary.  _ That… wasn’t the reaction I was expecting? Just what could have happened to her? _ Robert escorted her from a distance, remaining alert despite himself, as if someone in Sanctuary would even dream of hurting the great general on her home turf. He knew he was simply being paranoid. If he could help it, he’d never be separated from Gwendolyn ever again.

“GWENNY?!” shouted an incredulous Cait. Her barmates, Hancock and Deacon, peeked their heads through the bar’s front door, shocked at the redhead’s exclamation.

The ghoul whistled, visibly impressed. “I gotta be hallucinating. Cause there's no way you managed to escape the Institute.”

“Yes! You made it to the Institute and back in one living, breathing piece. And I'm 100 caps richer. Drummer Boy's going to be so pissed.” Obvious relief plastered itself on the old spy’s traits as he spoke. MacCready had actually seen the toll each passing day had taken on Deacon. Most of his witticism had withered away into nothingness, the talkative man morphed into a silent stump. It almost seemed like the smile the Railroad agent gave to Gwen was the most genuine thing he had ever done.

“Hey guys,” she answered in a low, gravely voice. “Don’t mind me.”

She barred Hancock from approaching her for a tight embrace simply by giving the ghoul a vicious glare. Bewildered, the trio surrounding Gwendolyn stepped back, letting her walk away, MacCready on her heel. He turned his head around as he went. Deacon's smile had turned to a serious frown while Cait remained entirely slack-jawed. It seemed that Gwen had never been this cold towards her companions before.

The mercenary walked behind his partner throughout the sheltered community, receiving interrogative glances whenever Gwendolyn shut down the various people trying to welcome her back. Even Codsworth was rudely shooed away when the robotic butler offered tearful congratulations to his mistress. Only Nick Valentine dared weather her rage.

“Where's your son, doll?”

“Nowhere,” she answered through clenched teeth.

“You mean to say that he wasn't in the Institute? Then, where is Shaun?”

“Leave me alone, Valentine.”

“Answer me first, kid.”

Unexpectedly, Gwendolyn pulled out Faith from its holster and placed the tip of its barrel in between the synth detective's yellow neon eyes. She made sure to release the gun's safety latch.

“Get the fuck away from me, Valentine. I won't say it again.”

Hands up to the side of his head, Nick slowly backed away from the vindictive woman. During the confrontation, Cait, Hancock, Deacon, Curie and Piper had encircled them, their reactions ranging from disbelief to panic. Nobody, especially MacCready, would have thought such a situation possible. 

“Alright, doll. Take some time to cool off. Now, put your revolver away.”

Gwendolyn refused to waver, remaining static as the assembled crowd parted to let Nick Valentine leave Sanctuary's main street. Only when the circle of friends and settlers ended up backing away as well did she finally put Faith away. 

Exasperation took hold of MacCready, his tongue lashing out in response. “I didn’t give you that gun for you to threaten innocent people with. We’re all worried about you.”

“Shut up.”

“Gwen, seriously, what’s going on with you? What happen-” She cut him off short, Faith’s barrel firmly planted underneath his chin. Robert gulped, forcing down the anger and anxiety that bloomed in his gut.

“Shut. Up. If you know what’s good for you, you’re going to shut that fucking trap of yours.”

He fell silent, using all of his inner strength to not unseal his lips once more. _Is this even Gwen? Was she… no, they wouldn’t replace her with a synth…. Would they?_ _If they did, they wouldn’t give her such a different personality._ Reluctantly, he followed the apoplectic vaultie to her old world home, its ruins still gracing the soil of Sanctuary centuries after nuclear armageddon. Wasting no time at all, she made her way to Shaun’s crib, her Shishkebab in hand. With the flick of a switch, she activated the blade’s flame jets. She threw the weapon in the crib, its old, dry sheets catching fire. Seemingly satisfied, Gwen exited the building to head over to her personal workshop, from which she produced two gasoline canisters. Robert frantically ambled behind her, taking in the craze expression she sported on her face. He wanted the speak up, stop her madness before it was too late but he stayed voiceless, only chasing after his lover as she executed her plan. Back to the remains of her old home, she poured the two canisters everywhere she could, dousing the decrepit furniture, the rotten floor boards, even the abandoned broken bed frame that faced a discolored family portrait. The Shishkebab’s flames spread rapidly, overtaking the nursery and finding their way to the gas. Instinct took over MacCready, making him run out of the now burning house. Gwen did not follow.

The population of Sanctuary gathered around the blazing inferno, some shouting while others desperately tried to coordinate the others into fetching buckets of water. Among them, Preston Garvey’s voice boomed over the others, ordering that the settlers evacuate the area and regroup at the Vault atop the hills overlooking the commune. Gwendolyn’s companions remained, shouting over each other different plans. Despite the chaos, it wasn’t difficult to understand that they all wanted to stop the blaze and extirpate Gwen from its embrace. Paladin Danse eventually pushed out of the group and ran head first into the fire that had now engulfed the entire wooden and metallic structure. He would be sheltered from the flames thanks to his Power Armor. Curie ran from the scene in tears towards the vault, rattled by what was currently unfolding. MacCready stood in front of the inferno, his eyes glued to the rising flames. He quickly felt unwell, his entire body rebelling against his emotions. He desperately wanted to run in after Danse and get to Gwendolyn before she burned alive. Yet, his feet stayed firmly planted in the ground, rendering him entirely helpless. If he did go into the blaze, there would be nothing he could really do, considering his lack of protective equipment. The woman he loved, the woman he wanted to dedicate himself to, was trying to end her own life and he had no idea what to do about it.

A twisted, almost demonic cackle rose from the flames, accompanied by brand and burned dust. Paladin Danse emerged from the burning building with a manic and mostly naked Gwendolyn thrashing and screaming in his arms. Her clothes and even some of her hair had burned away, completely distorting her appearance. She laughed and screamed to the heavens, sending a collective chill through all of her companions. MacCready could barely endure the view, eventually shifting his gaze to his own feet. Shame filled his heart. Shame that he didn’t have the courage to fetch her himself. Shame that he let her burn her own house down. Shame that he didn’t speak up despite her threats. Shame that he let her go in the Institute in the first place. Regardless, this scene solidified something for him: the Institute’s evil had completely destroyed her.

She shrieked like an enraged deathclaw, powerlessly clawing away at Danse’s armoured arms. “NOTHING EVER MATTERED! NOTHING!”

“Blue…” Piper held her hands to her mouth, tears rolling down her cheeks.

Hancock stepped forward, respectfully taking off his tricorn. “Sunshine… What did they do? What happened down there?”

“IT WAS ALL HIM! IT WAS HIM THE WHOLE DAMN TIME!” Gwen broke into another fit of laughter.

Deacon stepped forward as well, taking a spot next to Hancock. He nervously rubbed his bald head before speaking up. “So, yeah… I don’t know what you mean there, Bullseye. Care to elaborate? Where’s your son?”

The question muted the rabid woman for an instant. She hung her head low, closing her eyes. She took a deep breath then raised her eyes to meet Deacon’s, her entire countenance shifting from completely insane to exhausted.

“I have no son.”

A combined gasp from all who were present preceded a wave of confusion.

Nick Valentine eyed Gwendolyn. “Kellogg’s memories as well as your own did not lie about you having a kid that was then kidnapped from your vault. Do you mean that little Shaun is dead?” The question was followed by loud sobs coming from Codsworth. Supposedly, he had always loved the young boy and had been diligently awaiting his return.

“I REFUSE TO ACCEPT HIM AS MY SON. I WON’T ACCEPT THAT MY OWN FLESH AND BLOOD COULD BE HIM!” Enraged once more, Gwendolyn struggled against Danse’s body with renewed energy and desperation.

Having had enough of the public display, MacCready took charge of the situation to everyone’s astonishment. “Danse, take her to her other home. Garvey, get everyone to get the flames under control even if they’re already dying down due to the rain. Piper, go get Curie so she can inspect Gwen for injuries. Everyone else, scram.” No questions were raised as all the companions went about executing the mercenary’s orders. 

 

********************************

 

Gwendolyn had been confined to her room, Danse posted in front of the door in case she needed anything. To comfort her, Dogmeat was allowed to join her in her sequestration. The dog whimpered at first, somehow detecting her madness, then warmed up to her. Sanctuary had returned to its uneventful, tranquil state following the house fire. The structure had been extinguished rapidly partially due to the heavy rain. Still, it crumbled onto itself, removing all traces of the prewar world along with it. The fuming remains would have to be excavated at a later date. 

MacCready sat down in one of the parlor’s armchairs. All that had transpired had given him a pounding headache. Gwendolyn was denying her son’s existence, she had burned down her old house and generally gone insane. Where did he fit in all of this nightmarish mess? Could he still love this new Gwen? Could he still trust a woman that had threatened his life so blatantly?  _ I’ve nobody to turn to, nobody to talk it out with… What would Lucy do if that happened to me? She was a much better person than I could ever be but… I think she’d be patient, try to understand and give me space… maybe. I don’t know, I don’t have any idea what to do! _ Irked to no end, he let his head fall back.

“Man, I could really use a cigarette,” he whispered to himself. 

Cait, as if on cue, approached and handed him a Grey Tortoise pack. He pulled out a cigarette, placed it in his mouth, lit it and gave back the mostly full pack to the red headed woman. She lit one for herself then sat across from him.

“Well, that was interestin',” she said.

“Yeah… I’m not sure what to think of all that.”

“Gwenny’ll get back on her feet, ya’ll see.”

“I’m not so sure. All she ever had since she got out of the vault was her quest for her son and now that it turned sour…”

“She be stronger than that, ya know. Despite everything, she always got back up.”

“Eh, maybe you’re right.”

“MacCready,” called out Danse from the corridor leading to Gwen’s bedroom. “She’s asking for you.”

“I should get to it,” the mercenary sighed half-heartedly to his interlocutor. In response, Cait offered a supportive smile.

He took heavy steps towards the room that currently served as Gwendolyn’s cell. The paladin stepped aside and let him slither into the bedroom. His lover was sitting on the large bed in the middle of the room, brushing what was left of her once voluminous butterscotch mane. Dogmeat was laying down near the door, propping up his head with interest when MacCready closed the door behind him. The trio remained silent for a time until Gwen cleared her throat.

“I want to get out of here.”

“Unless we’re sure that you won’t do something stupid again, we’re not letting you out.”

“I meant… I need to get away from the Commonwealth. I need to be somewhere else.”

“Well, uhm… We could go to my homestead in the Capital Wastes if you’d prefer. Try to get your strength back first, alright?”

She didn’t answer immediately, opting to instead twiddle with some strands of hair. Her eyebrows began to twitch as they normally did when she got really nervous all of a sudden.

“You still want me to tag along with you?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

He placed a hand on her shoulder, making her flinch in response. “Isn’t that obvious, beautiful?”

“I don’t deserve you.”

“Are you kidding me? You deserve way better than a good for nothing hired killer like me. Before you get all sappy on me, I think you’ve got to explain to me just what the hell is going on.”

“Shaun… Shaun isn’t ten like we thought he was.”

“Alright, that’s a… really bad start. What else?”

“He’s… an old man. A sixty year old man. On top of all that… He’s the one controlling the Institute.”

“What?! You’ve got to- I’m sorry, really.”

“I can’t believe he’s… He’s the one that let me out of the freezer you know. He’s also the one that made it real easy for me to find Kellogg. He used me to dispose of his trash. He never even got to know Nate… Shaun called his own father’s murder “unfortunate collateral damage” to my face. I’ve never been so disgusted by another being…”

Overwhelmed by his desire to heal his lover’s pain, MacCready tentatively held her to his chest. Gwendolyn broke down in tears and resounding wails, her hands desperately clutching his shirt. The day’s events had drained her of both her energy and determination to the point that she fell asleep shortly after settling in bed with the young man. He held her as she drifted along her tormented sleep.

 

********************************

 

Panic. That’s all that MacCready could muster up when he woke up. Gwendolyn had disappeared along with Dogmeat and most of her equipment. He jumped to his feet, ignoring his body’s complaints. Erratic energy forced him out of the room he had shared with his lover and onto Sanctuary’s main street that, despite the late hours of the morning, was deserted. He jogged to the most common meeting spots one by one until he found himself at Sanctuary’s entry bridge where he found Gwendolyn’s friends and companions. Preston was kneeling close to the commune’s welcome sign. Next to him stood Curie and Piper, huddled together, shock discernable on their young faces. Hancock and Cait were cursing up a storm by Deacon’s side who remained silent behind his sunglasses. Codsworth hovered all over the place, dooming his lack of discipline towards his master. Danse stood on the bridge itself, facing away from the group. 

When Robert arrived onto the scene, Nick Valentine approached him, a somber foreboding expression showing on his plastic face. “She’s gone.”

“What?”

“She just took some things and left during the night. She left a care package for us by the welcome sign.”

The mercenary stepped around the synth detective to find himself confronted with Gwendolyn’s Minuteman General outfit neatly folded in front of Preston. Next to it was her Brotherhood flight suit on which a holotape and a set of holotags had been placed. The other items present were a pair of sunglasses, a large leather pouch and another holotape, this one addressed to MacCready. Nick walked over to the pile of items to fetch the identified holotape.

“Here,” he said as he handed over the small device. “She left this behind for you. I think there’s a functional holotape deck in the barracks.”

“Thanks, Valentine.”

Flipping the tape in his hand, he hesitantly headed towards the barracks, pure dread settling in him with each step he took. He feared the worst he could imagine. The message left for him could be one of many doomsday scenarios and he wasn’t sure he had the strength to listen to it without going mad himself. His apprehension did not keep him from loading the holotape in the deck.

The recording started with a number of loud clicks, probably due to Gwendolyn trying to figure out how to control it on her Pip-Boy.

“Mac, I’m sorry,” said Gwendolyn’s voice. “I’m sorry for everything.”

Some muffled barks were heard in the background. “Yeah, boy. It’s okay, I’ll be right there.”

Gwendolyn cleared her throat before continuing. “I can’t take all of this shit anymore. I just can’t. I wanted to be a mother. Despite the fact that Nate and I didn’t plan on having Shaun, I still loved him from the moment I realized I was pregnant to when Nate entered the damn cryogenic pod that stole the both of them away from me. He was my angel, my reason to live in the wasteland left by my generation’s bullshit war. And now, every cell of my being despises the son that I used to love so very much. If I remain here, in the Commonwealth, I’ll have to confront Shaun and his Institute. I can’t support the Brotherhood or the Railroad anymore since they want the downfall of my one and only son… Even if I can’t love him anymore, I can’t… I can’t kill him. I can’t fight him. I gave my holotags to Danse. Fuck Maxson, I can’t be his perfect little soldier anymore. I can’t point a gun at my son and pull the trigger. I hope you can understand that.”

She took a long pause, probably to gather her thoughts again. She sighed and resumed her tale.

“I’m leaving the Commonwealth. I’m sorry I couldn’t take you with me but, trust me, it’s for your own good. I don’t intend on coming back or to even survive the journey. Don’t come after me. Go to your son. Duncan needs you now more than ever. Go to him, be the father I know you can be. Now I know you’re stubborn and loyal to a fault so let me say it again. Do not follow me. Do not track me down. Not that I think you’d be able to. I will do all I possibly can to make it impossible for you or anyone else to track me.”

Gwendolyn’s voice cracked under her overwhelming emotions, making her last words muddled yet honestly genuine.

“Robert, I’m sorry for hurting you but if you can believe anything I say anymore, please remember this. I love you. I don’t want to break you. I don’t want to drag you down to hell with me. Please be happy. Please be safe. I’ll always love you.”

The recording ended on that last declaration. The young man’s composure shattered, tears escaping him despite himself. The pain of his loss was almost unbearable, menacing to break his spirit entirely.

He slammed his fists onto the holotape deck. “Gwen… Damn it!” 

Deacon, silent as a shadow, appeared in front of MacCready, holding onto the discarded sunglasses he had seen by the welcome sign.

“What are you doing here, Deacon?”

“Wanna find her?”

“Do you really have to ask? Of course I need to find her!”

“You sure? It’ll be real hard and all that.”

“I don’t care about any of that. If you know how to find her, then you better cough it up!”

“We might be able to. Gwen is one hell of an agent, able to cover her tracks almost perfectly. Emphasis on almost. Using all of the Railroad’s network of tourists and ressources… we might just be able to pull this off and find that rascal before she gets hurt.”

Then what are we waiting for? Let’s get this show on the road.”


	24. Epilogue - A holotape for Duncan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where MacCready leaves a message to his son.

“Hey Duncan, son... It’s your dad, Robert.” 

“How are you feeling? You should have gotten that cure I got for you by now. I hope to whatever higher power there is, Atom, God, doesn’t matter, that it worked. You’re turning six years old soon, aren’t you? Man, time flies. Last I saw you, you were still so small…”

“Anyways, I just thought I’d record this for you. I’m sorry, son. I’m sorry for never being there. I’m sorry for being the worst dad there could ever be. I just hope you understand that it was for your own good, alright? If I had not left, I would have never gotten that cure for you. I made it all the way to the Commonwealth for it. It was a really long road but it paid off. One day, when I’ll see you again, I’ll tell you everything about it. You’ll see, it was quite the adventure.”

“I met this woman named Gwendolyn. She’s the one that helped me get that cure for you. She also dragged me along in plenty of quests, getting us in and out of trouble every other day. It sounds bad when I say it this way but it was a lot of fun. She helped me defeat some bad guys that were after me and saved my sorry hide more than once. She’s… you could say she’s my best friend. My only friend.”

“The reason I’m telling you this is because she’s gotten herself in a whole lot of trouble and, since she’s my best friend, I’ve got to go help her out. You always have to help your friends, okay, Duncan? Always do what you can for them because you never know when they’ll be gone. With another friend of hers, a shady guy called Deacon, we tracked her down. Turns out that she left the Commonwealth and went to this unknown place called Nukaworld. I’m sure you can guess that I’m going after her, so I’ll be going even further away from you.”

“Honestly, I’m not sure I’ll be making it back either so yeah, I wanted to leave you something nice before I went in there. I thought that a recording of your dumb old dad might make you happy. When you were little, you always cried and cried until I would sing you a lullaby. There was no way you were going to sleep unless I sang to you. So maybe you still like your dad enough to want to hear him again.”

“I- uhm… I love you a lot, Duncan. More than you can imagine. Everything I’ve done until now, I’ve done for you. But this trip to Nukaworld… well, it’s selfish but it’s for me. I’m not ready to give up on this Gwendolyn. I have to go save her at all cost. One day, son, I know you’ll understand. So… will you please forgive me? I know I should be rushing to your side, rushing back home to check on you, not chasing ghosts all over the world, but I just can’t abandon her either. If it wasn’t for her… I wouldn’t have gotten that Prevent, the cure you needed. If it wasn’t for her, you would still be sick and I would still be nowhere close to getting that medicine.”

“I’ll do everything I can to get back from Nukaworld but I can’t promise anything. However, if everything goes well, would you like to move here with me? Leave the old homestead behind and start again here? Since Gwendolyn became the general around these parts, it got a lot more peaceful… We could be safe and happy here… If you do, let Caretaker Scarlet know, okay? Wouldn’t that be fun, being a family again? You could play around with Dogmeat! He’s a really good dog, you’d love him. We could make our own little house in Sanctuary, grow our own food and be together. Ah, sorry about that. I’m sure you don’t want to hear another one of your dad’s ramblings, right?”

“You know, since I met this Gwendolyn, so many things happened. I’ve met so many people from all walks of life. There’s this spy, Deacon, that I mentioned earlier. There’s also Mayor Hancock and Cait… They always help lift the mood around here. Just remember that if the good mayor offers you some chems, you tell him no thank you, okay? There’s Preston Garvey, the leader of the Minutemen, though we don’t really get along very well. There’s  Piper and Curie, two lovely ladies that I’m sure you would like. There’s also Paladin Danse, this big guy from the Brotherhood in Power Armor like in that story that you like so much. I don’t like him much though. Anyways, there’s a lot of people here that respect and like Gwen, so I know they can’t be all bad if they’re on her good side. Oh sorry, I almost forgot about Nick Valentine. He’s a robot detective. He makes me think of the Silver Shroud like in the Unstoppables comic books. He’s not bad but he still creeps me out… I should really write you more often and tell you about all the adventures I’ve had with them. Another thing I’m sorry about, son…”

“I don’t really know what else do say… Is this thing still even recording? The light is still blinking so I guess it is… I love you, Duncan. I really do. If I didn’t, well, I wouldn’t have gone out here in the first place. I miss you so much too. I can only hope that you’ll find it in your heart to forgive me for leaving you behind like I did and I really wish I could come over right now and make it all up to you.” 

“I’ve just got this one last mission to accomplish before I can. Deacon says we are leaving at dawn tomorrow to go to this train that’ll get us to Nukaworld. That would mean… yeah we’ll be leaving on the first day of May. Your mom, Lucy, she always loved that month. She said it was when she could find herbs and flowers to make all kinds of things. She used to drive me crazy with her obsession with Hubflower tea, always sending me around to get more and more of the damn plant until the cupboards would just be full of the stuff.”

“Hey, sorry again. I should just stop rambling and wrap this up. I miss you, son. I hope to see you sooner than later. I promise to be a better father to you when I come back. You deserve better than me but I’ll do my best if you’ll have me. We’ll be a family again. I’ll do all I can, Duncan. I really mean it.”

“Love you, kiddo. See you soon.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this is it. Part 1 of Whispers and Bullets is complete. I hope you enjoyed and that you'll continue reading this saga in part 2 which should start getting uploaded in a couple of weeks.
> 
> See ya soon in Whispers and Bullets: Search and Destroy


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